Rocky Mountain High
by heropastry
Summary: AU, the crew goes to camp in Colorado, hence the name . US/UK-centric, but most of the cast will show up. Side pairings may include Germany/Italy, Spain/Romano, Sweden/Finland, Prussia/Hungary, France/Canada, Poland/Lithuania, and Korea/China.
1. School's Out

Summer. Summer was here. Alfred F. Jones was overjoyed. Not only did summer signify the termination of endless days upon days spent cooped up inside, while the teacher droned on about something nobody was listening to, it also meant _camp_.

Camp. Basically the best place _ever_. No boring teachers, no squabbling, overprotective parents, just a month with yourself, your cabin mates, and the occasional indigenous fauna of the Colorado Rockies. Even the counselors were kind of awesome; now that he was older they were more like friends than authority figures. He had been going to the same camp for ten years, ever since he was 5. He knew everyone there, and everyone liked him (though the grumpier ones were loath to admit it).

There weren't very many kids in his age group (usually eleven or twelve, as opposed to twenty, which was the norm), and they had all known each other since they were in the junior camp. There were the kids that came every year; himself, his cousin Matthew, Gilbert, Francis, Antonio, Feliciano and his brother Lovino, Gilbert's brother Ludwig, Felix, Toris, and Ivan.

There was always one kid, though, who was new. It was usually a city kid, totally not prepared for any kind of wilderness experience, and they almost always never came back after their first year. But that's ok, they were usually nice kids, but they never really became part of the group, so it was fine, Alfred thought.

The blue-eyed teen looked up at the clock. _Five…four…three…two…_The bell rang. Alfred was out of his seat and out the door in an instant. Freedom. He didn't even stop at the vending machine, as was his usual routine, but headed straight off campus for home. He only lived about a mile away, and walking was way better than waiting for a parent to pick him up (he could drive, but he didn't have his own car just yet).

As he walked home with a spring in his step, he kept thinking _two days, I leave in two days_. Then it hit him, just as he reached his front door. _Two days. Shit. I gotta make sure I have everything on the packing list!_

He hurried up to his room and dumped the contents of his backpack on the floor. He'd be using it for day hikes, and his pre-calculus book was certainly not going with him on one of those. He ran down to the garage and started rooting through the old boxes near the back, looking for his big, royal blue frame pack. It had been a birthday gift that his parents got him when he climbed Mt. Whitney last summer. It was pretty damn fancy, what with the adjustable back and all the tiny pockets, and the bottom compartment for the sleeping bag.

He hefted the pack onto his back and trudged back up to his room. Then he dragged his duffel bag out of the dark recesses of his closet, and picked up the packing list and a pen. _OK_, he thought,_ 6 t-shirts, got it, next…_

_

* * *

_

Arthur Kirkland lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, at about the same time that Alfred was going through his packing list (of course, it was much later in London than in New York). Arthur had been out of school for a week, and he had _no idea_ why his parents felt compelled to ship him and his younger brother off to America, to the middle of nowhere in Colorado, for a month. He was not exactly excited by the prospect.

He had done all his packing a few days earlier, and some of the items on the list gave him more than a few misgivings. Why one would eat every meal out of an odd mix between a mug and a bowl, called a sierra cup, was beyond him. What happened to proper dishware? Speaking of dishware, he was _sure_ that the food was going to be horrible.

Also, the water bottles he was required to carry with him were absolutely _enormous_. And there were two of them. He couldn't quite fathom how one was supposed to finish them both before lunch. And what the hell was a Crazy Creek anyway?

And the people. It would be just his luck to get stuck in with a bunch of old friends. He wasn't exactly a social creature, and generally gave off an aura of bad-tempered-ness. Now, it wasn't that he would be lonely, a month by himself sounded wonderful. However, he knew that he would be forced into painfully tedious activities with the bunch of imbeciles he was sure his cabin mates would be. He would even have to live in close quarters with them. Also, he had a sinking feeling that this camp had been suggested to his mother by Francis' mother, which meant that the French bastard would most likely be sharing his living quarters. For a month.

Oh, fuck his life.

He rolled over and picked up his book, determined to re-read The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volume 1 before he was forced onto a bloody airplane to the middle of god-knows-where.

* * *

"Hey Kiku, what's up?" Alfred held his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he meandered through the selection of camping gear at R.E.I. He had lost his old sierra cup and sleeping pad, and besides, he wanted a Crazy Creek. It was optional on the packing list, but they were the best camping chairs _ever_, and he'd been meaning to get one for a while.

"Ah, hello Alfred, I was just wondering whether you had time to come over and beat that game we were playing before you leave tomorrow, or if you had left all your packing to the last minute again."

Alfred laughed. "No, I was actually responsible this time. I know, crazy, right? Anyway, I packed yesterday, but I'm just picking up some last-minute stuff. I'll head over to your house when I'm done."

"All right, see you then."

"Bye." Alfred snapped his phone shut and grinned. Kiku was his best friend, but the guy wasn't much of a mountain person, and he was always baffled as to why Alfred would want to go backpacking and hiking for a month of summer that could be spent relaxing. He also was less forgetful than Alfred, and had helped Alfred throw all his stuff together last minute many times. They totally bonded over video games though. Best invention on the planet, after the hamburger.

Alfred looked up after closing his phone. He had his sierra cup and sleeping pad, and a couple of new pairs of hiking socks for good measure. And he was standing in front of the camping chair section. He grabbed a blue crazy creek and headed to the checkout counter. At this time tomorrow, he'd be arriving at the Colorado Springs airport. In the meantime, he planned to fit in as much Wii time as possible.

* * *

Arthur sat on his balcony in his newly acquired crazy creek chair. He had to admit that it wasn't as odd as the name suggested. It was actually quite comfortable, just two cloth pads kept from bending by an interior frame and held in the shape of a chair with adjustable straps. It even had a pocket in the back for his book.

He sighed. He was leaving tomorrow, along with his younger brother, Peter. He had spent the week pondering different ridiculous plans to get out of the trip, all the while knowing he was completely wasting his time, because he'd have to be an immature imbecile to actually try anything that he had come up with. By this time, he was almost completely resigned to the voyage on which he was departing the next morning.

Damn early the next morning it was, too. He was leaving for the airport at four-thirty in the morning the next day, and he had a ten-hour trip ahead of him, with Peter and Francis as traveling companions. He groaned, and lay down his book. As exciting as Sherlock Holmes was, it would have to wait until tomorrow, since Arthur planned on getting at least six hours of sleep, and sleeping on the plane was out of the question. His fellow travelers would make sure of that.

He stood up and picked up his book and chair, and headed back inside, shutting the sliding door on the way in. He tossed his book on top of his duffel, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. He figured it would be his last good one for a while, so he might as well enjoy it.

* * *

Alfred _hated_ security lines. He had been standing in this particular one for an hour, and was bored out of his mind, and to top it all, he was in danger of missing his flight. He had left Kiku and his mom when he got in line for security, and he was supposed to call them when he got through, but at this point he was thinking about calling his mom now and asking her to get him a ticket on a later plane. He bounced on his heels nervously and chewed his lip, checking his watch for the fifth time that minute.

Just then an airport attendant walked down the security line. "Anyone have an 8:30 flight?"

Alfred jumped a little and raised his hand. "Ah, me!"

The attendant looked around. "Looks like you're the only one, kid. All right, come with me."

"Thanks, mister!" Alfred chirped as the man brought him to the head of the security line.

"No problem kid, we don't want you missing your flight," the man replied, with a good-natured smile.

"Bye!" Alfred waved has he headed through the metal detector. He had forgotten that this airline was helpful when it came to missing flights. His backpack went through the scan without incident, since this time he had remembered to put his pocketknife in his checked luggage. Last time had been a bit too traumatic of an incident to forget.

Once through security, Alfred slipped his shoes back on and pulled out his cell phone. He had ten minutes until his flight started boarding, just enough time to call his mom and grab something at Starbucks.

He headed over to the coffee shop, which was right next to his gate. He got in line and flipped his phone open. If he actually _called_ his mom, he'd never get her off the phone (goodbyes were not her thing), so he sent Kiku a text message saying that he was through security and going to make his flight, and to tell his mom not to worry.

By then he was at the front of the line, so he ordered a double chocolate frappuccino and sat down to wait. Just then his phone started to play the Imperial March (you know, Star Wars). He groaned and flipped it open.

"Hey mom."

"Alfred! How dare you try to get on that airplane without calling me! Do you have everything? Things to do on the plane? Are you sure that you want to go? You don't have to! I could come back and pick you up right now!"

"Mom, mom jeez, I love camp, you know that." Alfred sighed. His mother did this _every year_. "Look, they're boarding, I gotta go."

"Oh, all right, honey. Have fun! Write me lots of letters!"

"Bye, mom." Alfred snapped his phone shut before she could start getting too emotional and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. His mother was ridiculous sometimes. The guy at the counter called his name. He grabbed his drink and power-walked over to the gate, just as they were announcing that boarding had started.

He got on the plane and found his seat without any mishaps. He shoved his backpack under the seat in front of him with a little effort, pulled out his iPod and headphones, and sat back as the plane took off.

* * *

"Francis. Get your hands off me. For the _last time._" Arthur snapped, glaring at the blond boy to his right.

"Mais mon ami, I was just reaching over you to borrow some of that chewing gum from your petit frére."

"Bullshit." Arthur growled, just as Peter cried "Hey! You can't have any of my candy!"

"Everyone! _Shut up _and keep your hands to yourselves!" Arthur sighed wearily. Things had been going on like this since their flight had taken off two hours ago. It was completely embarrassing, not to mention irritating. People were staring at them, and he sunk a little farther down in his seat and wished fervently that he were invisible.

"Fine, but only if you let me get soda next time the drink lady comes back!" Peter demanded.

"Mon petit anlglais, you do not wish to engage the gorgeous moi in conversation?" Francis interjected before Arthur could answer Peter.

"No, I do _not_. Shut up and watch a movie or something, Francis. Just do _something _that does not involve any verbal interaction or physical contact with me. And yes Peter, you may have a soda, as long as you entertain yourself and _stop talking._ I'm going to listen to music." Arthur put in his headphones and turned them up loud enough to tune out any responses to his statement. Honestly, this was ridiculous. Peter was twelve, but he acted half his age. And Francis, he was worse than any immature child. Arthur was definitely the only responsible person in this row of seats. Which, he noted, was an emergency exit row. Oh, the irony.

Arthur tried to sleep. He had been up since four, and it was about time to get some rest. Just as he was starting to drift off, something poked him in the arm from the direction of the window seat. He reluctantly removed his headphones.

"What do you _want_, Peter?" he asked in his most venomous tone.

"I gotta go to the bathroom! Let me out."

Face, meet palm. This was going to be a _long_ trip.

* * *

Feedback is loved.


	2. Arrivals

**Here you all go, chapter 2.**

* * *

"Yo, Matt!" Alfred called to his cousin, who was sitting near baggage claim along with the other recent arrivals headed for his camp. His flight had been boring but bearable, and all he had left now was the two-hour bus ride from the airport to camp. Luckily, Matthew had arrived at about the same time as he did, so they were on the same bus.

"Hey Alfred. How was your trip?" Matthew was less enthusiastic than Alfred, but nonetheless glad to see his cousin.

"You know, boring. And my mom didn't let me go without a fight, as usual."

"Aunt Emily is kind of clingy, isn't she…"

"I'll say." Alfred laughed. "So how about you? Anything interesting happen on the flight?"

"Well, the lady in front of me tried to haggle with the flight attendant over the prices in the Skymall magazine, but that's about it." Matthew rolled his eyes at the memory.

"Pfft, really? That's kind of amazing. Hey, isn't that your bag?" Alfred grabbed a navy blue hockey bag with a Canadian flag patch off the conveyor belt.

"Yeah, thanks." Alfred handed the bag to his cousin, who set it down by his feet.

"Dude, this bag is _huge_. I can't believe you have enough hockey equipment to even _start_ to fill this thing. No wonder it fits all your stuff for the month! Oops, just let my pack go by!" Alfred ran off after his frame pack and snagged it off the conveyor belt. His duffel followed shortly after.

"All right, looks like that's everyone," he heard the bus driver call, "Everyone on the bus!"

"Lets go, Matt! I want to sit in the back so it'll be bouncy!" Alfred grabbed his bags and started off toward the bus. Matthew rolled his eyes, but followed Alfred with his hockey bag rolling behind him.

* * *

Arthur stumbled wearily off the plane at the Colorado Springs airport with his little brother and Francis in tow. He was about ready to fall asleep. A camp representative was there to greet them at the gate. The three of them followed him to the baggage claim.

"Yo! Francis!" Arthur heard from up ahead. He looked up and saw a white-haired boy waving from near the baggage claim.

"Salut, Gilbert. I would like to introduce you to my friend, Arthur Kirkland. He will be joining our cabin this year."

"Hey Arthur, I'm Gilbert the awesome. I'm sure you've heard about me from Francis, because I'm just that cool. And that's my brother Ludwig, over there." He pointed over to a serious-looking blonde boy who was sitting on his duffel and reading a book. _Thank god, someone literate_, Arthur thought.

"Nice to meet you, Gilbert," Arthur replied. Not that he was telling the truth, he was just being polite. He would rather not have made the acquaintance of another arrogant idiot, but this was life. "And for your information, that frog has lied to you; I am certainly _not_ his friend. Reluctant acquaintance is a more appropriate term." Arthur continued, exasperated.

"Wow, he's got a stick up his ass, doesn't he?" Gilbert laughed.

"Oui," Francis replied, laughing, as Arthur squawked indignantly.

"Yup, Arthur's a total jerk!" Peter piped up.

"Hey squirt, who're you?" Asked Gilbert, still chuckling.

"I'm Peter! Jerk Arthur is my older brother!" Peter replied, bouncing a little.

Arthur grumbled, aggrieved, and stalked off to watch the conveyor belt for bags. This was just fucking _lovely_. Every leg of this journey seemed to come complete with another imbecile determined to harass him. He grabbed his and Peter's bags as they went past, but left Francis'. The frog could get his luggage himself.

Arthur dragged the luggage over to a pillar and sat on his duffel bag. He considered going over and introducing himself to Ludwig, but decided that he would rather not try to force a conversation. He watched Francis and Gilbert chatting and laughing and Peter stuffing his face with the last of his chocolate bars with an irritated glare. He had only been in America for twenty minutes, and he was already more than ready to turn right around and catch a flight back to London.

Eventually another boy came from the arrivals gate and joined the conversation. He had brown hair, and he looked generally good-natured and cheerful. This fact alone made Arthur want to sock him. His scowl deepened when Peter ran over and grabbed his arm, and attempted to drag him back to the group.

After token resistance, Arthur let Peter pull him back to the conversation. "Hey, stick-up-your-ass, good to see you again," Was Gilbert's friendly greeting.

"Shut up, moron," Was Arthur's oh-so-polite response. He glared at the group. "Now what did you have my brother drag me over here for?"

"This is Antonio," Francis began another round of introductions.

"Hola, nice to meet you, Arthur." Antonio smiled and held out his hand. Well, at least this one was polite.

"Nice to meet you too, Antonio," Arthur stiffly shook the offered hand, "Now if you'll excuse me, I should watch my bags."

Just then the bus driver called for everyone to board the bus. Arthur chuckled a bit as Francis scrambled to grab his luggage from the conveyor belt, then picked up his duffel bag and headed towards the bus. He hoped he would be able to sit next to someone quiet and _finally_ get some sleep.

* * *

Alfred scanned the cabin assignments posted on the lodge door, while Matthew peered over his shoulder. Kinnikinnick, Columbine…Gold Hut! He scanned the names. He was in Gold Hut, along with all his usual cabin mates and someone named Arthur Kirkland. Alfred vaguely recognized the name. He thought that maybe the guy was a friend of Francis' or something (one tended to learn the names of the friends of the people you lived with for a month every year).

"All right Matt, we're in Gold Hut. Let's go unpack. There better be a top bunk free!" With that, Alfred raced off towards the cabin, with Matthew following at a walk.

The blue-eyed American burst into the cabin. "Hey y'all! I'm here, the party can start now!"

"Ve~! It's Alfred!"

"Shut up idiot, you're interrupting my nap!" The Vargas brothers occupied the bunk bed second farthest from the door, with Feliciano on the top bunk and Lovino on the bottom. The cabin was a square room with an orange linoleum floor filled with bunk beds, and with lockers lining the right wall. The door to the bathroom was in a gap between the lockers. Alfred looked around. It felt like home already.

"Hey you guys, anyone else here yet?" The bespectacled teen was completely unfazed by the older Italian's angry outburst.

"Nope, just us." Feliciano replied, with a wide smile.

"Sweet, that means no beds are claimed yet! I call this one!" Alfred threw his bag onto the top bunk that was against the wall, perpendicular to Feliciano's, just as Matthew walked in the door.

"Eh, hi guys. How are you?" Matthew dropped his bag on the bunk under Alfred's.

"Good!" Feliciano replied, at the same time his brother started complaining about Matthew's loud, obnoxious cousin interrupting his nap.

"That's good to hear." Matthew ignored Lovino's ranting and addressed Feliciano.

Meanwhile, Alfred was starting to unpack. He threw all his clothes onto the top shelf of his locker (with the exception of the jackets, which he hung up) and lined his shoes up outside on the concrete porch. He threw his blue camo-print fleece blanket over his bunk, and flopped down on his stomach.

"Hey guys, where are the counselors?" Alfred had only just noticed the absence of adult supervision.

"They went up to the lodge to get some tea and wait for new campers, ve~."

"Oh, cool. They must have been inside when we were up there. Hey Matt, wanna go meet them?" Alfred bounced off the bunk and on to the orange linoleum floor.

"Sure, why not," the Canadian sighed, "But don't leave me in the dust this time, got it?"

"Cool, lets go!" And with that Alfred was out the door, Matthew following close behind. During the whole walk, Alfred was bouncing, containing his urge to break into a run. His cousin had way too much energy, Matthew thought.

As they approached the porch they saw a short blond man staring down the road and tapping his foot impatiently. Alfred laughed and walked over to him.

"Hey Vash. Who're you the counselor for this year?" The American asked with a barely contained smile. Vash looked ridiculous, standing there with his brightly colored name-tag and clipboard and a grumpy expression on his face. It wouldn't be a good idea to tell him that though. Alfred had learned not to take the small man lightly over the years. Vash had been a camper when Alfred was eleven, but he'd gotten too old so he'd come back as a counselor. The main reason he kept coming back was to look after his younger sister, Lili, who was a camper at the girl's camp half a mile away. Not that she needed it; the Swiss man was just overprotective.

"You, unfortunately," Vash looked up at Alfred with a glare. "Now if you know what's good for you you'll drag my co-worker out of the lodge so I don't get in trouble for leaving my moronic campers unsupervised while I'm up here waiting for more of you to arrive."

"Will do. Who's your co-worker?" Alfred stopped trying to suppress his grin. The counselor's constant state of irritation was kind of funny, after all.

"Yao."

"Oh, sweet." Alfred headed into the lodge. The Chinese man was sitting at one of the tables drinking a cup of green tea while the Korean cook chattered animatedly from behind the counter.

"Hey, Yao! Vash says one of you has to go back to the cabin to watch us 'moronic campers'." Alfred called from the doorway.

"All right, I'll go back with you, just let me finish my tea, aru." Yao sighed resignedly. He usually had younger kids to work with, and he was grateful for the lower-maintenance sixteen-seventeen age group, but he had a feeling that they would be a handful in a way completely different from the little kids.

"Aren't you gonna say hi to me?" The cook pouted.

"Hey Yong Soo. Got any cookies yet?" The American walked around the counter and started going through the cookie jar. "Hey Matt, c'mere, Yong Soo has cookies!" He called to his cousin, who was leaning against the doorframe, as Yong Soo tried to grab the cookie jar from the taller American with shouts of "Hey! That's not for you!"

"Oh, hello Matthew, I didn't notice you there, aru." Yao turned around to face the blond.

"That's ok." The Canadian sighed. It was pretty normal for him to blend into the background, especially with his lively cousin always in the spotlight. "Anyway, I'm going to head back to the cabin."

"All right, I'll come with you, aru." Yao got up and placed his empty teacup on the counter. Alfred ran out from behind the counter with few cookies, laughing and almost knocking Yao over in the process.

"Sorry bout that!" He called over his shoulder as he ran out the door, as Yong Soo put the cookie jar back in its place, muttering something about the cookies being from Korea.

* * *

**Okay, here's more of this silliness. I _promise_ that Artie and Al will meet in the next chapter, I just have this little obsession with setting everything up, sorry...And the update schedule for this will be once a week for now. It may become quicker when summer is well underway. Also, this is the first time I've ever written a fic, so feedback on my writing would be _wonderful_. I'd love to improve :D**


	3. And They Meet

**Hey y'all :) Chapter 3: In which they _finally _meet.**

* * *

Alfred exited the lodge just as a van full of campers pulled up to the porch. A few smaller children piled out first, including a small, timid-looking boy with violet eyes who was trembling slightly. Alfred felt kind of bad for the kid.

"_Oh my god_ Toris! We're heeeeere! Oooh, lets go totally say hi to everyone! I've missed them like sooooo much!" Felix. Alfred chuckled. Felix was always hilarious. He didn't seem like the wilderness type at first, but he was totally enthusiastic about almost everything, and loved the social aspects of camp more than anything.

Felix jumped out of the van and did a little twirl. He was followed by Toris, whom he had been speaking to earlier. Toris was much quieter than his crazy blond friend, but was a really cool guy once you got to know him. Alfred was pretty close friends with him.

"Hey, look, it's Alfred! Oh my god hi!" Felix ran over and gave Alfred a quick hug. "How're you doing?"

"Pretty good." Alfred grinned. "You?"

"Totally ah-mah-ziiiing!" Felix looked around Alfred towards the lodge. "Oh, hey Matt! I _love_ what you've done with your hair!" And he was off again.

"Matthew's done something with his hair?" Toris watched his blond friend run around, trying to talk to everyone at once.

"Naw, it's the same as always. Felix is just crazy. So how're you?" Alfred turned around to talk to his friend.

"I'm doing pretty well. Happy to be back I guess." Toris smiled. "I'm going to go start unpacking."

"Sure thing. Anyone else in your van?"

"Ah, yes. I think Ivan is getting his bag out of the back." The brown haired boy looked a little uncomfortable."

"Ohhhh. Yeah. Sorry bout that two-hour bus ride." Alfred grimaced sympathetically. He and Ivan didn't really get along very well. The big Russian boy was well meaning, but he usually just ended up coming off as scary instead of friendly. They had learned to tolerate each other over the years of sharing cabin space, though, and Alfred was starting to dislike him less as they got to know each other better.

"It's ok." Toris laughed. "So who else is here?"

"Just Matt and I, and Feliciano and Lovino."

"All right, enough chit-chat. Go back to the cabin with Yao and unpack." Vash had walked over and was scowling at them.

"Oh, ok." Toris started walking down the path to the cabin, with Alfred at his heels. Alfred was practically skipping. He was energized; he wanted to go run around the volleyball court or something. He was just so excited to finally be back.

"Ahhh, it's so great to be here!" Alfred stretched his arms over his head.

"Yeah, it's nice to be back." Toris replied. They reached the cabin, and Alfred scrambled up onto his bunk.

"Hey guys, lets get some music playing!"

"Totally!" Alfred heard from the bathroom. Felix emerged with his pink polka-dotted hairdryer in hand. It seemed that he was in the process of unpacking toiletries. "I have my speakers. They're on the top shelf in my locker. Play something fabulous!" And with that he spun around and headed back into the bathroom.

Alfred jumped down off his bunk and dug through his backpack until he found his iPod, then grabbed the speakers from Felix's locker. "How about Lady Gaga?" He called into the bathroom, plugging in the speakers.

"Totally splendiferous! _Everyone_ loves Lady Gaga!" Felix called from the bathroom. It was met with halfhearted protests of "I don't!" from a Lovino, but Alfred ignored him and plugged in his iPod, then bounced back up to his bunk.

"Hello, everyone." Ivan walked in the door with his bag slung over his shoulder. "I assume this bunk is free, da?" He set his bag down on the bunk closest to the door.

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Alfred replied. The American looked at his watch. "Hey, it's almost one. I'm gonna go get some food. Anyone wanna join me?" He jumped down off his bunk and pulled on his sneakers.

"I'll come! I'm hungry!" Feliciano jumped off his bed and skipped out the door. Alfred followed him.

"Race you to the lodge?"

"Okay!" They set off at a run. Alfred arrived well before Feliciano, who was panting. "Ve…now I'm hungrier..."

"Alright, lets eat then." Alfred made his way to the back of the lodge and started making himself a PB&J. Feliciano ran over to the counter and started bugging Yong Soo to make him pasta.

Alfred walked back over to the front and leaned in the doorway, munching on his sandwich. He looked around the collection of counselors waiting for new campers to show up. Most of them were familiar faces. He walked over to a tall blond man who was standing by the steps to the lodge porch.

"Hi Berwald. What age group do you have this year?" Berwald had been his counselor last year, along with a smaller and considerably less intimidating Finnish man, Tino.

"Tw'lve t' th'rteen." Berwald had a really strong accent, but most kids who had had him as a counselor had learned to understand it. Well, mostly, anyway.

"That's cool. Working with Tino again?" The blond boy asked.

"Yes, he is." Came a voice from behind Alfred. He turned around.

"Oh hi Tino! Didn't see you there, sorry."

"That's because I just came up from the cabin." Tino turned his attention to his co-worker. "Berwald, one of the kid's bags got lost at the airport. They said they'd send it on a later bus if they found it. It's blue with black handles, with the initials R.G. on it. Would you keep an eye out for it?"

"S're." Berwald turned his attention back to the road, just as another van came around the bend. It stopped in front of the lodge, and the door opened with a bang.

"Helllllllo, Colorado! Awesome is invading!" Gilbert jumped out of the van, followed by his brother.

"Yo! Gilbert! Ludwig! How're you doing?" Alfred ran over to the van.

"Alfred, dude! I'm great! I'm so great it's badass!" The white-haired boy clapped him on the back. "Now off to spread my badass to the everyone else!" Gilbert strode off confidently toward the cabin.

"Hey, brother. You forgot your bag." Gilbert froze mid-step.

"I-I so meant to do that! Yeah! Totally!" Gilbert protested as he hurried over to the back of the van and grabbed his duffel.

"Sure, brother." Ludwig rolled his eyes, hefting his own duffel from the pile. He followed his white-haired sibling towards the cabin.

"Alfred, mon ami!" Alfred turned around to see Francis making an extravagant gesture of greeting.

'Hey Francis!" Alfred held up his hand for a high-five, which Francis returned. "And you too Antonio!" He called over Francis' shoulder at the Spanish boy, who was retrieving his luggage.

"Hola, Alfred!" Antonio called back and returned to extracting his bag from the bottom of the pile of duffels. But Alfred's mind wasn't on Antonio anymore. He stepped around Francis and ran up to the grumpy-looking boy with ridiculously large eyebrows that had just exited the van.

"Hi, you must be Arthur! I'm Alfred, nice to meet you!" Alfred held out his hand with a welcoming smile. He wanted to make the new kid feel as at home as possible-plus, the guy just let out a vibe that screamed, "if you tease me my reaction will be hilarious". Arthur looked up and scowled, then shook the offered hand.

"Nice to meet you, I suppose." He turned and began to extract his luggage. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find the farthest available bunk from that frog's." He began to walk in the direction of the cabin.

"Uh, hey, I'll come too I guess, since there's nobody else to wait for." Alfred fell into step beside the British boy. _Well, _he thought, _might as well try to start a conversation._ "So, how'd you come by this camp? You a friend of Francis'?"

"More like an unwilling acquaintance. But our parents are good friends. That's how mine found this place, and decided to send me to the middle of nowhere for a month." Arthur responded with a sarcastic smile.

"Hey, it's not that bad, Artie. The middle of nowhere is pretty damn awesome, if I do say so myself." Alfred replied, grinning.

"Don't call me that, git. I hate that name." Arthur scowled. Alfred laughed to himself. _Seems like he's going to be fun to tease, just like I thought. _"And besides that," the Brit continued, "since when were you the definitive authority on 'awesome'?"

"Ok, so Gilbert is trying to steal my spot as number one awesome dude ever, but there's no way he even comes close." Alfred beamed, flashing a thumbs up. "I'm _way_ cooler."

"Really now." The green-eyed teen gave the taller a withering look. "All I see is the 'number one' arrogant imbecile I've met. Although, in that department, Gilbert and the frog do give you quite a run for your money."

"Whatever, eyebrows." Alfred snickered. This guy had one hell of a sarcastic personality. He wondered offhand how he and Ludwig would get along. The German boy didn't understand sarcasm, so he figured there would be some amusing failures of communication there.

"Excuse me?" The shorter boy reddened and glared at Alfred with an affronted expression. "There's nothing wrong with my eyebrows!"

Alfred laughed outright at that. "Hey, I never said there was anything _wrong_ with them. I just noticed their, um, unusual size."

Arthur's scowl deepened and he turned even redder, an event which the American had previously deemed impossible. "Shut up. My eyebrows are perfectly normal!

"Whatever you say, Artie." The taller teen sang, suddenly leaning against Arthur and walking sideways, forcing him to walk in the ditch in the trail, grinning all the while.

Arthur flailed his arms, dropping his duffel and pushing the blue-eyed boy away. "H-hey! You have no right to deviate me from my chosen path!" He huffed indignantly and picked up his bag.

"Every new kid has to walk in the ditch! Diiiiiitch!" Alfred promptly did it again.

"What? No! This is absurd!" Arthur squawked as his course was yet again changed by Alfred's shoulder. Instead of flailing, he pushed back, making Alfred push harder. When the Brit decided that Alfred was leaning at a suitable angle, he stepped back away from the American and into the ditch. Alfred immediately fell on his face.

Arthur smirked. "Oh my, so very coordinated of you. Now I'll just be going on my merry way, on the _normal path_." The blond boy dusted off his hands and began walking briskly towards the cabin.

"Oh no you don't!" The bespectacled boy scrambled to his feet, laughing, and ran after Arthur. Arthur looked over his shoulder at the call, and started running towards the cabin, now in sight. His laughter, which he had been desperately suppressing since their shoving match (if one could call it that) finally bubbled, irrepressible, to the surface.

Arthur stumbled onto the concrete porch of the cabin and leaned against the wall, trying unsuccessfully to catch his breath. Alfred followed soon after, and immediately threw himself down on the porch bench in hysterics.

When his laughter finally subsided and he caught his breath, Alfred looked up at the other boy, grinning, and held out his hand. "Truce?"

The British boy sighed, attempting to sound put-upon, but his still-present lopsided smile ruined the effect completely. "Oh, all right. Truce, then." He shook the American's hand. "But I won, you know."

"Pffft, yeah right. The side of justice _always_ prevails." Alfred snorted, standing up and walking into the cabin. Arthur followed with his duffel, bantering back and forth with the taller teen. He thought that maybe, just possibly, his situation wasn't as horrible as he had first thought. Of course, this didn't change the fact that they were all idiots, and Alfred, he decided, was most definitely the greatest idiot of them all.

Somehow Arthur had a feeling that the git would manage to make that a compliment.

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**Okay, so. We finally have interaction...how was it? :D **

**On another note, I have finals this week, but I'll still try to get the next chapter up by Saturday evening.**


	4. Sleeping In A New Place Is Always Hard

**Here we are, Chapter 4 :D**

* * *

Alfred stared at the ceiling. Stared hard. Then he rolled over and grabbed his pillow, kicking his legs in a random burst of energy (and almost kicking Feliciano in the face in the process. Luckily, the Italian was asleep and didn't notice.) Speaking of sleep…Alfred thought he should really get to that. Yeah.

But he was just too excited. How could he sleep when he was finally back where he'd been wishing to be for the past 11 months? The blond grinned into his pillow, unable to control his buildup of excess energy. He really wanted to go and run around in circles outside, but he felt like he might get in trouble for that.

In the end, he settled for whispering at the new kid, who had taken the last available bed, the one perpendicular to his on the side near the door (They slept head to head at a right angle). Maybe he was awake. You know, what with it being a different time in England and all.

"Psst, hey, Artie? You awake?" No response. Okay, so apparently it wasn't morning in England yet. Or the guy was just exhausted. He had collapsed on his bed shortly after unpacking, and refused to get up except for dinner. He had gone back to sleep immediately afterward. Alfred didn't blame him. He'd probably had a long day, since he _had_ been flying with Francis (who had gone to bed at a normal time, but he was used to making the time adjustment and made himself stay up to get it over with more quickly). The American considered trying to screw with the shorter boy's dreams by whispering trippy stuff in his ear, but decided that it probably wouldn't work, especially since Gilbert said it would.

Alfred suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when he realized that he had been staring at Arthur while his mind wandered, his face only a few inches from the Brit's ear (he _had_ been whispering at him, after all). He flipped back over and stared at the ceiling, a blush on his face. That had to have looked creepy. It wasn't like he had meant to do it or anything, he was just distracted. Of course.

He puffed out a breath, fidgeting with his covers. He had way too much energy. And too much to think about.

This new guy was…interesting. Alfred couldn't really call him cool. In the few hours he'd known him, the blue-eyed teen had come to realize that they had almost nothing in common. Arthur liked books; Alfred liked video games and sports. Arthur was good at literature and history, while Alfred excelled in math and science. Arthur was grumpy and quiet while Alfred was loud and outgoing.

At the same time, he couldn't say he didn't like him, either, because that would be a flat-out lie. Alfred found himself wanting to get to know the shorter boy. It was more than the usual 'oh, hey it's a new guy, that's cool, whatever'. He actually wanted to befriend the green-eyed teen. It was probably because he was definitely turning out to be fun to tease. Yup, that was definitely it. And he refused to think about it anymore, since it definitely wasn't helping him sleep.

The restless teen flopped around for a couple more minutes, before his long day finally began to catch up with his elation, and he drifted off.

* * *

When Arthur woke up it was still dark. He cursed inwardly, and pressed the light button on his watch. Eight-thirty in the morning. Which made it…what was the time difference again…? Oh yes, it would be one-thirty here.

He scrunched his eyes closed and desperately tried to go back to sleep. The last thing he needed to deal with was jet lag. He had been hoping that his exhaustion from the trip over would help him sleep later, and consequently get past the lag, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. He gave up, and sat up, sitting back against the cool glass of the window, then turning around to look out.

Arthur squinted and tried staring out the window. It was a futile gesture; he couldn't see a thing, so he lay back down. The pitch-blackness unnerved him slightly. He was used to the light pollution of the city, where it was never too dark to take a walk or work on his embroidery (which was a perfectly normal hobby, thank you very much. It was relaxing, all right?). It was disconcerting to open your eyes and not see anything, not even the faint outline of shapes. It also made him slightly worried about how he was going to get down from his bunk in the middle of the night if he ever needed to, what with the complete lack of ladders and all.

It took a couple minutes, but Arthur's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark as he stared up at the ceiling. He was able to make out a couple of rafters, and Alfred's head in the bunk next to him. Just as he came into view, the American let out a rather loud snore. Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course the git _would_ snore.

Arthur scooted to the end of his bed and swung his legs over the edge. He couldn't see the ground. He was debating the worth of getting his flashlight and a book at the possible expense of his ankles versus staying in bed bored when he heard Alfred mumbling. He crawled back to the head of the bed and faced the American.

"Are you awake or are you just sleep talking?" Arthur whispered, since he couldn't see Alfred very well and certainly couldn't tell whether his eyes were open or not.

"Mmm, hamburgers…" Arthur had to stifle a snort. That was so like the idiot, to dream about his favorite food. He had already expressed his adoration of those grease-filled abominations at dinner, despite the fact that hamburgers were only served twice during the camp session (he had been complaining about how that was the only thing wrong with the place).

The British boy absently chewed on his lower lip. He had to admit, despite how loud, obnoxious, and otherwise obviously annoying Alfred was, he couldn't say he honestly didn't like him. If anything, he was grateful to the American (as loath as he was to admit it). He had been truly expecting to be miserable and alone from the moment he stepped off the plane, but the taller teen had been anything but unfriendly. It wasn't that cheap, plastic welcoming attitude most people put on when they met someone new, the indifferent politeness that he was used to. He could tell Alfred wasn't like that. He was too open, too honest. Alfred had been genuinely glad to meet him, and Arthur wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, rolling over and returning to the debate over the worth of risking his ankles for Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

DONG. DONG. DONGGGGGG.

Alfred's eyes shot open. He threw off his woolen covers and vaulted out of his bed, striking a pose as he landed.

"Yo, guys, it's the bell! Up and at 'em! Pancakes!" Normally Alfred liked to sleep late, but the first couple days of camp were always an exception. He was so energized just by being there that he felt like he was on a perpetual sugar high.

"Ugh, what the _bloody hell _is that noise?" Arthur lifted his head, blinking groggily. He'd passed out around three-thirty (he'd never gotten the book), and the sudden loud ringing was not at all welcome to his out-of-sync system.

"It's the first bell! We've got to start getting ready to head up to breakfast." Alfred looked at the Brit. "You should really get on that getting ready part. Your hair looks like the ninja squirrels decided to make a nest in it."

"Shut up! And _ninja_ squirrels? Really? What the hell are those?" The shorter boy sat up in bed and flushed indignantly. It wasn't _his _fault that his hair was messy.

"Oh, they're super cool! They're squirrels, and they're black and they've got pointy ears and totally epic ninja skills! Like, skillz with a 'z' skills!." Alfred went right on babbling enthusiastically while Arthur stared at him blankly.

"_Oh my gawd, _my hair! Someone help me straighten it like A.S.A.P.!" Came a shriek from the bathroom. Arthur jumped at the sudden shrill noise, while the American just laughed as he watched Toris turn away from his locker with a sigh and head into the bathroom.

"I'm coming, Felix. Your hair will be fine."

"Toris, help meeeeee!"

"_Shut up you bastards!_" Lovino was awake.

"Ve, Ludwig, how much longer until breakfast?" So was Feliciano.

"Ah, bonjour, mon petit anglais!" Francis poked his head out and waved up at Arthur. Arthur kicked him in the face. He looked around. The cabin had erupted into chaos. He ducked as Gilbert's shoe came flying near his head on it's trajectory towards Ludwig's back.

"Dear god, this is madness. Is it like this every day?" The Brit asked Alfred, raising his voice slightly over the din.

"Yeah, pretty much!" Alfred laughed, "It's great, huh?"

The shorter boy sniffed. "Hardly."

Arthur began to climb down from his bunk. He figured if he held onto the foot of his bed and got his feet on the frame of Francis', he'd be able to get down. He got one foot firmly on the end of the frog's bed, and then-_whoosh_ the covers slipped, sliding his foot off the bed.

_Of course_ the frog hadn't tucked in his blankets. Arthur felt himself falling backwards, and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for an impact that never came. Instead, warm, strong arms caught him mid-fall.

"Hey, you alright there?" Arthur slowly opened his eyes to find a broad grin and smiling baby blues just inches from his face. He flushed bright red and kicked his legs, and Alfred quickly set him down.

"Woah, woah, no need to get angry! I was just trying to help out!" The American laughed at Arthur's flushed face, and held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "That could'a been one heck of a fall!"

"Well there was no need to invade my personal bubble in the process!" The emerald-eyed boy huffed indignantly. "Your face was _this close_!" He gestured with his hands to emphasize his point.

"Oh, mon ami, you know you loved it." Francis smirked, sticking his head out from his seat on Matthew's bed. A pillow promptly connected with his head, causing him to pull it back in while he laughed.

"_You_, frog, are disgusting, and I refuse to let you insinuate such amazingly incorrect ideas!" Arthur flushed even brighter and threw the pillow at Francis, who had retreated to the other end of Matthew's bed, accidentally squishing the Canadian against the wall and causing him to yelp in protest.

"Everyone, _be quiet!_" Vash slammed a book down on his bedpost, making a loud crack. The room, which had previously been in chaos, quickly fell silent. Felix stopped shrieking and came quietly out of the bathroom, Lovino stopped shouting at Antonio, and Gilbert suddenly ceased his previously uproarious laughter at the drama going on around him. Feliciano kept humming under his breath, but Ludwig nudged his arm and he fell silent.

"Now. Breakfast is in ten minutes, and I want every one of you to shut up and get up to the lodge on time. You all got that?"

"Yes, sir!" Gilbert saluted.

Vash's eye twitched. "Don't be a smartass, Gilbert. Now all of you, go get ready and for god's sake, stop the mayhem!" He climbed down from his bed and started looking through his (impeccably neat) locker, signaling that they could all go about there business.

Alfred laughed a little at Arthur's shocked expression (It was kind of adorable, he thought, before his mind squashed the idea). "Don't worry, he's always like that. He doesn't mean it, really."

"W-well I certainly hope not. That was rather unnerving. Though I must say, it did restore order fairly quickly." Arthur frowned and started going through his locker, wondering what on earth he was supposed to wear. He had no idea what he was even _doing _that day.

Alfred, meanwhile, just threw on an old red t-shirt and some shorts, and grabbed his flip-flops. He'd put on some sneakers after breakfast if he had to. He sauntered over to Arthur's locker and looked over his shoulder for a moment. Arthur was rifling through a pile of shirts, looking frustrated.

"Hey, it's not pajama day, you know."

"Arthur turned around, glaring at him. "I _know_ that, idiot. I just don't know what clothing choices would be appropriate for the day's activities, given that I don't even know what they _are_."

The taller boy laughed. Arthur was _so _overthinking things. It fit right in with what Alfred had learned about him so far. "Dude, just put on a t-shirt or something, it's no big deal. You can always change after breakfast. Here." Alfred reached into the very back of the Brit's locker and pulled out a black band t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"H-hey! Put those back, don't touch my stuff!" Arthur grabbed the clothes and clung to them possessively, shooting Alfred a dark look. "Those are for riding, they said I needed them."

"Well go put them on anyway! You'll probably have to ride today, so you might as well." Everyone had to go down to the barn at some point during the first two days to learn the basics.

"Fine, then." Arthur shot the American another glare and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a minute or two later. He carefully folded his pajamas and put them on the top shelf of his locker, then closed the door and turned around.

"Hey, buddy. You're gonna need shoes." Alfred grinned innocently at him. The green-eyed boy blushed brightly, and quickly turned around and grabbed a pair of canvas sneakers from his locker.

"O-of course." He sat down on Matthew's bed to put them on, fumbling with the laces.

_Scatterbrained, too_ Alfred thought, smiling to himself. This new guy really was funny, even if he didn't realize it.

"All right, 2 minutes to eight, lets go! And whoever is out last, remember to close the door behind you." Vash strode out of the room, followed quickly by Yao (who was still not fully awake. He wasn't much of a morning person).

"Gotta go!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's arm and ran out the door, dragging the protesting (and blushing. Arthur seemed to do that a lot.) Brit off to the lodge.

* * *

**Okay, so this will be the last chapter for a while, because I am leaving *dun dun dunnnn* FOR CAMP. Yes, the wonderful splendiferous place in which I have spent the best 7 summers of my life. But yes, that means no internet access, so no new chapters, sorries. I'll be back in a month :) See y'all!**


	5. Not Lost, Just Sidetracked

**Yup, an update! I know, _finally._ So sorry about that.**

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The next two days were reasonably uneventful. After breakfast, the whole cabin did the required trail ride (which was more than slightly confusing to Arthur, who was not at all used to this Western riding nonsense). That afternoon they all did the swim test (Alfred just _had _to show off by swimming an extra lap and still beating everyone). After dinner, they got to relax (if you could call it that) in the cabin, and the next day everyone split up to do various activities of their choice.

Arthur was sitting on Matthew's bunk (because it was a bottom bunk, and he refused to sit on Francis'), staring at his newly rented backpack. It was a large, bright orange affair with an internal frame and lots and _lots _of pockets. He was supposed to be packing for the cabin overnight (which consisted of the whole cabin camping about 2 miles away), but he had no idea where to start. He had considered asking someone for help, but his pride wouldn't let him. He had tried watching other people pack to see what they were bringing, but the cabin was such a flurry of activity that he couldn't really tell.

_Oh, to hell with this._ The green-eyed boy sighed inwardly, then got up and marched over to his locker, throwing it open. He grabbed a flashlight and his sierra cup, and started tossing things into his bag.

* * *

Alfred tucked his sunscreen in the top of his pack and zipped it up, climbing back up on his bed. The cabin overnight was always an easy packing job; it took him 5 minutes at most. He was an efficient packer, since he'd been doing it since forever, and he still had a bunch of room to take food and tents before they left the next day. He pulled out his notepad and a pen to start writing a letter home (he had to write at least twice a week so his mother wouldn't worry).

Toris ran over and scrambled up on the American's bunk, slightly out of breath. He leaned back against the wall to catch his breath.

"Hey man, what's up?" Alfred peered over at the brown-haired boy and set aside his (barely started) letter.

"_Why _did I have to get here so late? And _why _did I let Felix take the top bunk?" Toris lamented, half to himself.

"Because you let Felix do pretty much whatever he wants." The blue-eyed teen laughed. "So what's the problem?"

"Ivan's bunk is right next to mine, and he keeps giving me these creeeeepy looks." The Lithuanian made a face. "I know he just wants to freak me out but it's _working_, darn it."

"Hello, you two. Done with your packing?"

"Ahhhh!" They both jumped and looked towards the source of the vaguely creepy voice, namely one Ivan Braginski. He was smiling sweetly with his face _way_ too close for Alfred's comfort. It was also kind of intimidating that he could do that while they were on the _top bunk_.

"Dude, personal _space_." Alfred scooted backward, but couldn't quite cover up how startled he'd been just moments ago. The tall Russian boy just turned around and walked away, chuckling to himself.

"You see what I mean?" Toris sighed. "He thinks it's so funny! I mean, it kind of would be if it weren't me, but still…"

"He's an odd one, eh?"

"Artie!" Alfred beamed down at the Brit leaning against the bedpost. "Come on up!"

"Not my name." He grumbled under his breath, but clambered up onto the American's bunk anyway.

"You finally done packing?" Alfred teased. "I thought it was gonna take all week! Speaking of packing, someone should probably make sure that Felix doesn't bring his blow-dryer again."

Arthur ignored the jibe in favor of looking slightly aghast. "Did he _really_? You know what, I'm not even surprised."

"Yeah, he does these things." Toris sighed. "I better go check his pack." The brown-haired boy slid down off the bed and trotted over to Felix's bunk, leaving the other two alone. They sat for a moment before Alfred broke the silence.

"So, you excited for the overnight?"

"Resigned to it, really."

"Hmm well yeah, we don't really do much. Team bonding and stuff, you know? But I'm excited for when we get back!"

"And why's that?" The shorter boy asked, almost nervous for the response.

"HAMBURGERS FOR LUNCH!" Alfred yelled with a fist-pump. Arthur cringed and covered his ears. He really shouldn't have asked, but seeing the bright grin on the American's face and his glowing enthusiasm, he couldn't help but smile a little as well.

* * *

"Oh my gawd, it is _so_ hot. This is like, not _fair_."

"Felix, you'll be fine, just don't pour any more water over your head. You're going to need to drink it or you'll get dehydrated_._" Toris sighed. They were trudging towards the campsite with their packs strapped to their backs. They didn't have very far to go, but they were walking through an open field with no shade and, he had to admit, it _was_ an unusually hot day.

"Oopsie-dasies…" The Polish boy laughed sheepishly.

Toris stopped and looked back at him. "What's the matter _now_?"

Felix giggled a little, unfazed by the brown-haired teen's frustration. "I'm kind of out of water." He unscrewed the top of his pink metal water bottle and shook it upside-down, as if to demonstrate.

The Lithuanian exhaled slowly then bit his lip. He knew it was Felix's own fault, but getting dehydrated really sucks, and it happens easily at high altitude, and Toris really was worried for the flamboyant blond. He reached into his pack and dug out his last bottle of water, which was only about three-fourths of the way full.

"You can have some of this. Just try not to waste it, okay?" He held out the blue plastic bottle to the Polish boy, who took it and drank a gulp. He stuck it in the side pocket of Toris' pack before pulling the earnest teen into a hug and spinning him around. The backpacks made it a little awkward and top-heavy, but Felix didn't care, even when they almost lost their balance and tipped over.

"Oh my god, thank you so much! You're the best, Toris!" Felix exclaimed, squeezing his friend tightly before releasing him.

"Y-you're welcome, it was nothing, really." Toris blushed and looked away.

The Polish boy linked their arms and pointed ahead dramatically. "To infinity, and, like, beyond!" He started marching along the path, pulling the other teen along with him. Toris smiled, still blushing, and looked down at their linked arms. He never could stay mad at Felix.

* * *

"This is all your fault, you bleeding git!"

"_My _fault? You're the one who just _had _to go look for a 'nice, quiet spot' to sit and read your book!"

"Well _you're _the one who dragged me out of the tent in the first place!" Arthur huffed, crossing his arms in front of him and sitting down on a rock. They had gotten to the campsite, set up camp, and had a lunch of bagel sandwiches. After lunch, the British boy had retreated the tent that he was to share with Alfred and Matthew with his water bottle and a book. He had intended to spend the afternoon there, but Alfred just _had _ to barge in and demand they go explore the surrounding area, especially 'those awesome giant rocks over there', because he'd never been to this particular campsite before (and he'd been almost everywhere on camp property).

Arthur had reluctantly agreed, grabbed his book and his tennis shoes, and set out determined to find a quiet, relaxing spot in the shade to which to sit and read while the American 'explored'. Sadly, the excursion did not go quite as he had hoped it would. Alfred had ended up dragging him up and down and around rocks and trees and various plant life until he had no idea where the campsite was anymore. It turned out that the taller teen didn't either.

"Alright, alright." Alfred sighed. "It doesn't matter whose fault it was, we need to find a way back."

"_You _are just avoiding the fact that it was _you _who got us into this mess!" Arthur refused to let the subject drop; his pride wouldn't let him.

"Oh my god, can't you just get over it? It's totally your fault too!" Alfred was frustrated, Arthur could see, but he wouldn't back down, not now.

"I refuse to take any of the blame for this! I had nothing to do with it!" The shorter boy was almost yelling now.

"Are you kidding? Just suck it up and admit it!"

"Never, you sodding git!"

"Stop it with your weird slang, busybrows!"

"Tosser!"

"Jerk!"

"Fuck you!" Arthur yelled, glaring at the American, who seemed to shrivel under the green-eyed teen's angry stare. They sat in silence for a minute or two, air thick with tension, before Alfred spoke.

"I-I guess I kind of did get us lost, didn't I." The shorter boy looked back at him, but Alfred was looking down at the dirt, apparently very interested in the pine needles that carpeted the ground.

"So you did."

"And you were kind of being mean there." Alfred looked up sheepishly.

"What are you-" Arthur started indignantly, before reconsidering. The American had put aside his pride and was trying to be mature, so why couldn't he? "Well...well, yes. I suppose I was." He ground out, with some difficulty. Damn it, but he was bad at admitting when he was wrong.

Alfred relaxed a bit. "Sorry for getting us lost, then. And for not admitting it, because it totally was my fault." He grinned sheepishly.

"I-I apologize as well. I was being immature and vindictive." Arthur avoided the bespectacled boy's gaze, blushing.

"So we're cool then, right?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"Yes, we're…cool." Arthur sighed, smiling a small smile and looking back at the blue-eyed boy.

"Great! Let's find our way back! Hey, look at those rocks over there! If we climb them, we might be able to see the tents! They kinda stick out 'cause they're bright orange, ya know?" Alfred bounced up from his seat on a log and grabbed the smaller teen's hand, tugging him up and off towards the rocks. Arthur only just managed to grab his book as he was pulled along.

The rocks turned out to be a little farther away then they had looked. Alfred's bouncing jog slowed to a walk before they were there. When they arrived at the base of the rocks, Arthur took one look upward, then turned around and started to walk back to the site of their argument. The taller boy grabbed his arm and he turned around.

'Wait wait wait! Where are you _going_?"

"Back there. I'm sure we'll find our way back eventually." He shrugged his arm out of the American's grasp.

"But why? We just walked all the way over here!" Alfred was confused.

"Did you look at those things?" Arthur gestured up at the rocks. "I'd break my neck trying to climb something like that!"

"Oh. _Oh._" The taller teen started to laugh.

"It's not _funny_! Just because you're mister tall and athletic doesn't mean everyone else can do what you can! And besides, I doubt you can really get up there anyway." The British boy huffed, spinning on his heel and marching away.

"Artie, wait a minute! I'm not making fun of you, I swear! I was just worried that there was something really wrong that I was missing, so I laughed when it turned out to be that, that's all. Come back!" Alfred called after him.

Arthur stopped, and slowly turned around and walked back to where the American was standing. "All right, what do _you _propose we do, then?"

"It's easy! I do a lot of climbing, and I can get us both up there no problem!" He pointed up to the top of the rocks, beaming brightly.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, _please_! You want to get back to the campsite, don't you?" The blue-eyed boy pleaded desperately.

"Well, yes, obviously, but-"

"All right then!" Arthur was cut off as Alfred lifted him up and set him down on a rock a little bit above the ground. "Up we go!"

"J-just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" The shorter boy sputtered indignantly, glaring down at Alfred from his perch on the rock.

"Helping you up the rocks. Now, I'm going to tell you where to put your hands and feet, and you have to listen to me, okay? And don't worry, I'm down here to catch you if you fall." The American grinned. "That's what a hero is there for, after all!"

"_Christ_, you are _ridiculous_." Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. "All right, shoot."

"Okay, so you see that ledge right above your head?"

"This one?"

"No, a little to the right. Yeah, that one. All right, so put your right hand there, and move your right foot up a little. Great!"

They made their way up the rocks with only a few minor incidents (although those definitely gave Arthur some kind of heart attack, he was sure). As they reached the top, he noticed that evening was falling, and the light was getting dimmer.

He clambered up onto the top, and Alfred scrambled up after him. "Nice job! You were great, totally a natural at this!"

Green eyes widened, taken aback at the unexpected praise. "Really? You think so?"

"Yeah, definitely! You should come on the tech rock overnight with me, it'd be fun!" Alfred grinned, flashing his companion a thumbs-up.

"I'll think about it, but I think that right now we should be concerned with the fact that it's going to get dark soon." Arthur, ever the worrier, reminded the cheerful blonde.

"No problemo dude, check it out!" He held up a headlamp.

"Where the_ hell_ did you pull that from?"

"Keep it in my pocket. Gotta be prepared, you know. We _are _in the wilderness, after all! And hey, we've got a light so we might as well hang out for a while, enjoy the sunset, you know. Just gotta make sure we're back for s'mores!"

"You really are ridiculous." Arthur sighed, and looked around him for the first time since ascending the rocks. It really _was_ gorgeous. They sky was turning all sorts of golds and reds and purples, and he could see for _miles_. It was all rolling hills and lush valleys and pine and aspen. He could even see the campsite, below them and not too far away.

He sat down near the edge of the rocks and pointed it out to Alfred, who decided that it was definitely close enough to hang out for a while and still make it back in time for dinner. The American sat down next to Arthur, and they looked out over the landscape for a few peaceful moments.

"It's really gorgeous, huh?" Alfred murmured softly, eyes still fixed outward.

"Yes, I suppose it is." Arthur looked over at his friend. The normally peppy blonde had a calm, almost wistful look in his eyes and a small smile on his face. The British boy wasn't sure why, but seeing Alfred, enthusiastic and hyper Alfred, with an expression like that made him feel like he was melting a little inside. He smiled softly at the other boy.

"You really love this place, huh."

"Yeah." Alfred chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I guess I do."

* * *

**Okay, first of all, I am _so sorry_ for not updating for so long. I have no excuse, except for that when I got back from camp, there was a span of about a week and a half when I couldn't even _try_ to work on this without crying. Dude, I _still_ start to sob when I hear "Leaving On A Jet Plane", which is the song we always sing at closing campfire at the end of camp. This was my last year, see, and I've been going to camp for eight years and have met some of my oldest and best friends in the world there, so it's more than a little emotional. I felt bad for not updating, though, so I tried to write a little more than usual this time :) **

**Reviews are loved like cookies~**


	6. Stars and Various Gooey Things

**Chapter for you~ :D**

* * *

"Where the _hell _were you?" Vash demanded, glaring at Alfred. The American flinched slightly under the short blonde man's accusing stare.

"Yeah, really, where _were_ you?" Gilbert echoed the small Swiss man, stuffing another uncooked marshmallow into his mouth.

"We just went…exploring, and…kind of got lost, I guess. Sorry 'bout that." Alfred laughed, in between bites of his disgustingly gooey double-marshmallow chocolate peanut butter grahame cracker concotion. The counselor huffed, but lessened his glare.

"Well we were all freaking out! We almost sent out a search party!" Matthew exclaimed, setting aside his neat, golden-brown marshmallow, one square of chocolate s'more.

"Aw, c'mon bro! It's no big deal! Artie and I were just out having some fun! Right, Artie?"

"Now don't you drag _me_ into this." The shorter boy snapped, still nibbling on his chocolate (marshmallows, in his opinion, were disgusting gelatinous objects that were to be kept well away from his taste buds, thank you very much). "I'm not going to get into a silly argument with _anyone_."

"That's rich, coming from you" Francis snickered into his single grahame cracker topped with a marshmallow, toasted to absolute perfection and smothered in melted chocolate.

"You bastard!" Arthur chucked the remains of his chocolate at Francis' head. The Frenchman ducked, laughing, and the Brit huffed and crossed his arms in irritation. Instead, the projectile hit the back of Ivan's head. The Russian boy turned around, smiling as politely as ever, while the other two dived for cover.

Matthew turned away from the quarrel and refocused his attention on his cousin (while Gilbert, however, decided it would be more entertaining to poke the English boy's cheek with his marshmallow roasting stick). "Well, so what if you were having fun, Al? _We_ sure as hell weren't having fun! _We_ were sitting here, tearing our hair out trying to figure out where you'd got to!" He snapped. He wished desperately that he had some maple syrup to put on this s'more, because maybe, just maybe, it would help him deal with his irresponsible relative.

"Maybe _you _were, Matt-boy. The rest of us don't give a shit where Al and his boyfriend went off to." Gilbert sneered, then laughed at his own joke.

"He's _not_ my _boyfriend_!"

"I'm _not_ his _boyfriend_!" The shouts came at the same time.

"You're _not _helping, Gilbert!" The Canadian pouted. "And besides, who was it that was just demanding that they tell us where they've been all afternoon?'

"Hey, I wanna know! I just wasn't _worried_ or anything." The white-haired teen countered, plucking another marshmallow from the bag and popping it into his mouth. Om nom nom indeed.

* * *

"Feliciano, no! What are you doing!" Ludwig exclaimed suddenly, as he turned around just in time to witness the cheerful Italian twirling and dumping fried vegetables all over the stream bank. "You're supposed to put those in a trash bag."

"Whoops! Well, they're all gone now!" Feliciano smiled beatifically, looking over at the taller boy. Ludwig facepalmed. He, Feliciano, Lovino, and Antonio had been assigned the unlucky job of doing the dinner dishes. Dinner had been fajitas, so there was a lot of fried peppers and chicken and beans and leftover rice to deal with. Halfway through the dishes Feliciano's older brother had dumped dishwater over Antonio's head and stormed off in a huff, muttering something derogatory about the Spanish boy. Naturally, Antonio had chased after him, full of good-natured apologies, leaving Ludwig to get the job done with the help (or maybe hindrance) of his scatterbrained and cheery Italian friend.

He sighed, and started to pick up the sliced peppers and throw them in the plastic trash bag. He couldn't just _leave_ them there, after all.

"You need to listen to directions and pay attention to what you're doing." The German teen berated the Italian. "If you'd listened to what I told you before we started the dishes, we wouldn't be stuck picking up soggy peppers!"

"Sorry…" Feliciano deflated a bit. It was silent for a moment before Ludwig looked over at the smaller teen and sighed.

"Well…when we get back, we'll get s'mores, right?"

Feliciano perked up immediately. "Yeah!" He started gathering the dropped vegetables with twice his previous vigor, and soon they had them all cleaned up and in the trash bag.

"Now let's go have dessert!" The Italian grabbed Ludwig's arm and started back towards the campsite. The taller teen only just managed to gather up the clean pots and pans as he was pulled along.

* * *

"Um, like, excuse me? Who said you could start dessert without us?" Felix demanded, hands on his hips. He had been waiting for his nails to dry before rejoining the group for dessert (apparently Toris had missed a bottle of nail polish he had smuggled into his bag. He regretted this later, because Felix had tried to make him paint his toenails.) only to find that the marshmallow-roasting fest had begun without him and his best friend. This, it goes without saying, was unforgiveable.

The group paused in their collective argument. "Well, those two idiots over there managed to return from wonderland, and we were all so _very_ elated to see them again that we just _had_ to begin celebrating. You do understand, oui?"

Francis' sarcasm was lost on the blonde Polish boy. "Oh, that's like, fine then. Just pass the goods over here!" He plopped himself down on a log by the fire and beckoned to Gilbert to throw him the marshmallows. The white-haired teen complied, but not without grabbing a couple more for his own eating purposes. He was going to get a sugar high off these things if it killed him.

Toris sat in the empty space on the log between Felix, who was trying to make sure his marshmallows tanned evenly and were super-gorgeous and deeeee-lish, and Yao, who was gnawing on a grahame cracker, looking frustrated.

"These kids are crazy, aru…" He muttered to himself. Toris chuckled a little bit. His counselor sure was right about that, poor guy. The Lithuanian boy grabbed himself a marshmallow and fished around on the ground for a suitable roasting stick that wasn't already covered in somebody else's leftover marshmallow goo. Alfred saw him searching and tossed him one. He skewered the gooey thing and started roasting it, as there was a momentary lull in the conversation. It was almost peaceful.

"Hey, hey, guys! There's some delicious dessert left for me, right?" Feliciano came bounding up the hill from the stream, followed by an overwhelmed Ludwig who was trying to balance all the dishes in his arms. Alfred got up to help him out, high-fiving the buoyant Italian and pointing him in the direction of the second (unopened) marshmallow bag, because Gilbert was busy finishing off the last three from the first bag in one bite. The American lay the dishes he'd taken from Ludwig by the fire to dry and plopped back down in his crazy creek, before it struck him.

"Hey, Ludwig. Where's Antonio and Lovino?"

The group let out a collective sigh.

Vash rolled his eyes. "They can find their own way back. This time I'm _not_ organizing a search party."

* * *

Alfred rolled over to stare up at the sky, simultaneously scooting a little closer to the British boy beside him. He really hated sleeping on the end. The sky was totally clear, so the group had opted for sleeping outside in a line under the stars. Alfred had tried to squeeze himself in between Matthew and Toris, but Gilbert had laughed at him until he really couldn't get out of sleeping on the end with his dignity intact (Antonio was on the other end, but he didn't seem to have a problem with it, damn him). It was really nerve-wracking though, knowing that there was nothing beside you except the dark woods, which were so harmless during the daylight but almost menacing at night. It wasn't really the wild animals he was scared of it was just…well, it was _creepy_.

The stars were worth the eerie experience of sleeping outside in the dark woods, though. Up in the mountains the stars were so much closer, and it was almost like there were more specks of light than dark black in the night sky.

"Ve, look! A shooting star!" Feliciano pointed upwards from somewhere in the middle of the line of sleeping bags. "Everyone make a wish!"

Alfred quickly scanned the sky where the Italian had pointed and saw a streak of light flash across the sky. He heard a gasp beside him, and he knew Arthur had seen it too. He rolled onto his side to face the shorter boy.

"So, Artie, what'd you wish for?"

"Ah! Um…well, I forgot that part…" He laughed sheepishly.

"I know what you mean! It's just so cool!" Alfred grinned. "Guess what I wished for?"

"Oh, I don't know, what?"

"That the kitchen doesn't run out of hamburgers tomorrow at lunch, because I'm gonna eat as many as I can get my hands on!" He threw his hands up and laughed, loud and clear. The British boy rolled his eyes, and Vash yelled at Alfred to shut up or he'd come out of the counselor tent and shut him up himself. Oh, what a peaceful night.

* * *

"This is disgusting. I feel disgusting." Arthur grimaced and gingerly stuck his hand in the pot of pancake mix and water and started scrubbing. Well, it was really more like running the soapy sponge lightly over the pancake mix caked to the sides of the pot and trying desperately not to let it come in contact with his skin. He was already covered in dirt and grime and ash from the cooking fire, and he did _not_ need sticky pancake batter thrown into the mix. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to come camping. It was a bloody filthy experience.

"Aw c'mon, it's not that bad! Here, gimme the scrubbie, I gotta get rid of this syrup." Alfred plucked the green sponge from the green-eyed teen's reluctant grasp and set enthusiastically to scrubbing a plate covered in the sticky sweet substance.

"Yeah, and anyway, Matt's pancakes are _totally_ worth the cleanup. They're almost as awesome as me!" Gilbert piped up from his seat on a rock, dangling his feat in the stream and fiddling with the handle of the frying pan.

"Like you would know anything about cleanup, arsehole. You're _supposed_ to be scrubbing the damn pan!" Arthur snapped at him.

"Hey! I don't get along well with frying pans, okay?" The white-haired boy pouted. The British teen gave him a confused look.

"The girl he's desperately pining after wants nothing to do with him and hits him with one whenever he does something particularly stupid." Francis filled in, snickering. Arthur glared at him and muttered something about fucking frogs not doing any work.

Gilbert looked offended. "You're wrong! There's no way she can resist the awesome me!"

"Dude, get over it, you don't have a chance. Doesn't she have a boyfriend at home, anyway? Name starts with an R, plays the piano…" Alfred drifted off, finger to his lips, trying to recall something.

"Pfft, that sissy? I could take him down in a second!" The German boy bragged. "He's probably gay anyway."

"That doesn't change the fact that you still have no hope with Elizaveta." The French boy said matter-of-factly.

"Oi, once you all are done mocking Gilbert's hopeless love life, we have work to finish it." Arthur said, frustrated. "Especially you, you goddamn useless Frenchman." He threw the (still un-scrubbed) batter pot at the long-haired blond, who caught it neatly, much to the Brit's chagrin.

"Yeah, Artie's right, guys. We need to finish the dishes and pack up so we can get back to camp on time." Alfred agreed, seriously for once.

Gilbert laughed. "Oh, shut up. You just want to make sure you don't miss the hamburgers"

* * *

**Well hi there :D So this one is a little shorter than the last one, but I was crawling through my amazingly dull summer reading book for most of last week. I'm leaving for Cape Cod on Sunday, but hopefully I'll be able to bring my laptop with me and get some writing done, so it shouldn't make _too_ much of a difference.**

**Thank you all for reading :3**


	7. Like An Old Married Couple

**Okey dokey, chapter 7.**

* * *

"Best. Lunch. _Ever_." Alfred was bouncing on his toes next to his seat on the bench at the lunch table, waiting for the meal to start. He had a huge smile plastered to his face, and was fiddling with the can of Coke that he'd claimed immediately upon arriving at the table.

The group had set out from the campsite that morning at about ten. They had arrived at base camp only an hour later, due to the American's enthusiasm and long legs. Arthur had been horrified to realize that there really were fourteen of them (including the counselors) and only three showers (pathetic excuses for showers they were, too. Barely any water pressure). Somehow, though, they all managed to wash away the dirt, grime, sweat and general feelings of _gross_ that accompanied any night spent in the woods before the cook, Yong Soo (an energetic Korean man), rang the lunch bell.

Now they were standing around the table, waiting for the meal to actually begin. Arthur could _smell_ the pathetic, greasy excuses for chips sitting on the kitchen counter. He wrinkled his nose. He could feel Alfred bouncing in excited glee next to him through the floor. It was really quite ridiculous, how worked up the taller boy was over some absolutely revolting fast food that he probably ate for every meal at home anyway.

The head of camp announced the start of the meal, and the room switched instantaneously from excited tension to a mad scramble for the hamburger patties and the french fry bowl. Alfred, of course, somehow managed to grab everything at once, heaping exorbitant amounts of _everything_ onto his now-overflowing plate. Arthur picked out a couple decent-looking fries and went (calmly) for the salad. He was pouring himself a glass of water when he felt the American staring at him. He turned towards the taller boy and came face-to-face with horrified blue eyes.

"You're crazy." Alfred stated matter-of-factly.

Arthur was mostly confused and slightly miffed. He got that too much. "Why?" He asked, his tone mildly irritated.

"You're eating salad. And not a burger. Do you understand, Artie, that this is the _only burger_ you will get _all month_?" Alfred looked at the British boy like he was out of his mind.

"Yes, and…?" Arthur went back to delicately picking at his salad. _Alfred_ was the crazy one if he expected him to eat one of those grease-covered heart attacks waiting to happen.

"Whatever, dude." The bespectacled boy gave him a look of pity and went back to munching his burger with great gusto.

* * *

Arthur felt absolutely greasy. He had _just _showered and cleaned up right before lunch, but he was immediately forced to slather himself in sunscreen and sit at the pool. Well, he wasn't _forced_ to smother every exposed inch of his unusually pale skin with the stuff, but the idea of sun poisoning was far worse than the temporary slime. He was just more than a little miffed at the fact that one couldn't seem to stay clean for more than an hour in this place.

He was sitting on the side of the pool and dangling his feet in the water, squinting through the sun at the pages of his book. He had forgotten his sunglasses back at the cabin, and Gilbert had immediately claimed the shade of the umbrella. Arthur couldn't really blame the guy; he was albino, after all. What managed to really piss him off was the fact that the German boy had dumped his towel in the shadow of the red umbrella and immediately cannonballed into the water, conveniently splashing everyone within a five foot radius (Arthur included, of course) before climbing out and settling down in the shade.

Alfred, of course, had ran straight to the small spiral water slide at one end of the pool, and had been racing up the ladder and down the slide continuously for about ten minutes. It never failed to surprise Arthur how easily amused the American was. Every mildly interesting thing he discovered was like an amazing new toy to a small child with an excessive sense of wonder. It was ridiculously endearing, actually. Not that he would admit that to Alfred, of course. He had had enough trouble admitting to himself that the taller boy didn't _completely_ piss him off, and still more resigning to the fact that he actually kind of liked the guy.

"Hey, Eyebrows!" Hmm. Maybe he'd have to rethink this 'liking the guy' nonsense. "Watch this!"

The emerald-eyed teen looked up reluctantly from his book towards the slide, and belatedly realized that Alfred had moved to the diving board on the other side of the pool. He turned towards the taller boy. He was standing at the very back of the board, waving frantically at Arthur with a giant grin spread across his features.

"Watch what?" The smaller teen sighed.

"This!" Without any further ado, Alfred did a little hop, and then was sprinting forwards. Suddenly he was in the air, twisting forwards, but he kept his legs completely straight.

"Bend your knees, idiot!" Arthur yelled, horrified. He was going to hit the board, he was going to break his legs, the British teen just knew it. But despite the sandy-haired boy's concern, Alfred landed smoothly in the water. He resurfaced, laughing elatedly.

"Wasn't that _awesome_? One of the guys on the football team used to do gymnastics before he got too tall, and he taught me how to do that at a team party. It's called a layout."

"Y-you idiot!" Arthur kicked his feet, splashing water at the taller boy, who protested loudly. "You absolute _git_! You reckless _fool_! You fucking scared me! You could've seriously hurt yourself with that little trick, you know!" He crossed his arms and glared his most menacing glare. The moron was an absolute bloody show-off, doing something dangerous like that. It was thoroughly infuriating.

Alfred pouted. "Aw, c'mon man, don't be such a stick in the mud. I know what I'm doing, jee-" He stopped mid-syllable, an expression of confusion on his face, which quickly morphed into what Arthur, who was feeling extremely nervous about whatever was crossing the other boy's mind, could only describe as a shit-eating grin. "Heeeeeey, Artie, you were worried about me, eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows in the most _obnoxious_ manner humanly possible.

"W-w-what? No, of course not, imbecile!" Arthur blushed brightly. "I was merely afraid that you were going to get blood in the pool, and then I'd have to drag you out and find someone to take you to the hospital!" He tossed his head to the side, as if to dismiss the subject. Of course, this only made the idiot bobbing around in the pool start snickering.

"What? What is it?" An angry green glare settled upon the blond head sticking up out of the water.

"Dude, that was so…so _girly_!" Alfred forced out between suppressed giggles. He tossed his head to the side and flipped his wet hair in an exaggerated imitation of the British teen, managing to spray him with water as well.

"Was not!" Arthur was still red, but he was more indignant than embarrassed now. The American marveled for a moment at how easy it was to turn the other boy a ridiculous shade of pink before remembering to be annoying.

"Was _too_!" Arthur kicked violently at the water in Alfred's general direction, before standing up and walking away, either to find a spot farther away from the taller teen, or else to find something to throw at him that he didn't feel the need to finish reading first.

"Aw, wait a second, Artie!" The blue-eyed teen pouted as the other boy marched off. "It's not a _bad_ thing! I mean, it was cute!" He called after Arthur's retreating back. The messy-haired blond stiffened, and Alfred could see the tips of his ears turning red for a moment, before he stormed off into the pool shed. The taller teen was absolutely baffled by the other boy's reaction. _What did I do now? …Wait…waiiiiiit…._ With a sinking feeling, the American realized what he had just yelled at Arthur from halfway across the pool. He could have smacked himself, but it was time for some _very _quick damage control. If only he could just think of how to go about doing that.

"Ah oui, Arthur est trés mingnon." Came a very _French _voice in his ear.

"Woah!" Alfred jolted away from Francis, who had managed to swim right up behind him without him noticing. Which he didn't really appreciate, especially since he was wearing nothing but a swimsuit and Francis was a pervert. "Woah woah woah, man, I have _no idea _what you just said, but whatever it is, I didn't mean it like that!"

The French boy smirked at him. "Then, mon cher, how _did_ you mean it?" Alfred groaned. He could hear Gilbert laughing uproariously, the jerk. And Matt was giving him a look, too, one of those really annoying 'I know something that you don't, ha ha!' looks. And Mattie was family, too! He was supposed to be on his side! Damn Canadians. Luckily it didn't seem like anybody else had heard him yell, but with Francis and Gilbert, that was bound to change very, very quickly.

"Look, I dunno, man. It's just not what you think it is, okay?" He sank down in the water until his ears were submerged and started blowing bubbles to drown out whatever response the Frenchman gave.

* * *

"Yo, Browman! We need another Coke up here!"

"Watch it, Gilbert. You don't want another bump on your head." Arthur slammed the refrigerator door open in irritation, grabbing the nearest can of Coke and tossing it at the offending boy's head.

"Yeah, Gil. You better check yourself before you wreck yourself." Alfred accompanied his amazingly obnoxious tone of voice by moving his head side to side and generally getting in Gilbert's face. He grinned and stuck out his tongue, before turning back to the kid standing in front of him on the other side of the counter. "Sorry, what'd you want again?"

It was after dinner, and the three of them were running the tiny, cramped camp store. It was where all the kids got candy and soda, which, in Arthur's opinion, was a horrible idea, whereas Alfred thought it was absolutely wonderful. He was sipping a his second can of soda while talking to the kid in the front of the line, who Arthur, glowering at the back near the fridge, realized belatedly was his younger brother.

"I want some Skittles and a Kit-Kat and a Strawberry Fanta!" Peter piped up, bouncing on his toes.

"Yo, Arthur! We need some-"

"I _heard, _Gilbert!" He threw the soda at the white-haired boy (who had gotten very, very good at catching pop cans in the past ten minutes or so he'd spent in the store with Arthur). "And no, Peter. You're not allowed to get that much candy. Really, you shouldn't be getting any, you're hyperactive enough as it is." He frowned down at the younger boy.

"Aww, c'mon, Artie!" The British boy turned surprised green eyes on Alfred, who had interjected before Peter had a chance to object to his older brother's rule. "Let him have the candy. He's at camp, he's supposed to be having fun!"

Puppy dog eyes. Alfred was giving him _puppy dog eyes_. _Over his little brother's candy consumption. This is ridiculous_, Arthur thought. But Alfred was giving him this look that made him feel like the bad guy. And it wasn't that he minded being the bad guy, it was just it made him feel, well, he couldn't quite say, really, he just felt bad about it. Which, he reminded himself, was absolutely preposterous. But he couldn't help believing the other boy, just a little.

"Oh, _all right_, fine." He scoffed, looking away. "But don't get used to this, twit." He bopped Peter on the head with the Skittles before handing them to the younger boy.

"Fine, jerk!" He stuck his tongue out at Arthur before giving the American a high-five and running off to catch up with his friend, the timid-looking blond boy that Arthur had seen getting out of the van the first day.

"That really doesn't make me feel good about giving him what he wants." The scruffy-haired blond sighed, running a hand through his messy bangs.

"Hey, c'mon, he loves you, dude. He just doesn't want to say so because he's too cool for older bros." Alfred grinned affectionately and slapped him on the arm, making Arthur wince.

"Whatever you say." He turned back to the refrigerator, opening it and searching through it for something that wasn't carbonated.

"Yo, when you two lovebirds can come back from your little world over there, there's a kid standing here waiting for his stuff." Gilbert snickered a little at his own joke.

Arthur's ears flushed red and he leaned further into the refrigerator, pretending not to have heard. Alfred turned a little pink. "Seriously, Gilbert, stop it, the joke's old now."

"Not by the look of your face it isn't!" The white-haired teen cackled. "Besides, you two idiots are totally hilarious. Like," He leaned in and lowered his voice, as if he was saying something of grave importance. "You've only known each other for a week, and you're like, the best of friends. Seriously, Artie-boy, Al even called you _cute_. And you guys honestly bicker like an old married couple." He chuckled a little. "Really, guys. Don't deny it. You're totally in luuuuuuuurve." The German boy drew a little heart in the air and wiggled his eyebrows.

"You are completely fucking stupid, you know that?" Another can came flying at Gilbert's head, and this time he was too busy laughing his obnoxious ass off to catch it.

* * *

**Ahahaha, I love Gilbert. He's so much annoying fun. :) Let me just tell you that I just recently got my wisdom teeth out and am on crazy strong pain meds, so if this chapter sounds weird, that might be why.**

**Reviews are lovely, splendiferous yet elusive creatures that make me want to write more.**


	8. Shower Conversations

**Hello to you all, new chapter.**

* * *

Kiku paused his game and looked up as the mail slot rattled, announcing that the day's post had arrived. He set down his controller and walked over to the mail slot, extracting the contents and flipping through them as he headed into the kitchen. There were a couple gaming and anime magazines, some bills and a fashion magazine for his mother, and…_oh, what's this? A letter?_

"Florissant, Colorado…" He read the return address out loud. "Oh, I see! This must be from Alfred! He just forgot to put his name on the return address." Taking his magazines and the letter, Kiku headed up to his room, back to his still-paused game. Placing his magazines in a neat pile on his desk, he carefully opened the envelope and extracted the slightly torn and crumpled sheets of paper and sat down to read.

_Hey Kiku, what's up? …Oh, right, that's a stupid hello to use since it'll take you a week to answer. So just, hey dude._

_ Anyway, it's been about a week since camp started. All the usual dudes are here, and one of my counselors is this Chinese guy, Wang Yao. I think you might know him? I feel like you've talked to him online or something. Anyway, there's this new guy, too. He's British, and his name is Arthur. He acts really grumpy and stuff, but he's actually pretty cool. He doesn't really know anyone except Francis, and he doesn't really get along with the guy (not that I blame him, he's almost as much of a victim of Francis' sexual harassment as Mattie. Almost). Anyway, since he doesn't know anyone and, well, he really isn't the outgoing type, I decided that I'm gonna be his friend. Like, it's a hero mission. And it's gotta be going well, since Gilbo and Francis are making these stupid jokes about us. But yeah, I think I'll succeed in this mission! Well, obviously, since heroes ALWAYS succeed, but you know what I mean. _

_ Well anyway, this week's been awesome! We had our cabin overnight and Artie and I got lost for a little while, but it was cool. And the s'mores were freaking AWESOME. And the burgers were awesomer, of course. Also I got to show off that cool diving trick (Artie got all worried though. God, he acts like such an old man sometimes)._

_ The dance is tomorrow, so we get to see the girls. Which is really less exciting as it sounds. It's mostly Vash glaring murderously at us if we come within ten feet of his little sister, ahaha. It'll be fun to watch Gilbo try and flirt with Elizaveta, though, and we'll probably have to carry him to the nurse afterward or something._

_ Oh, also, could you send me some of that instant ramen you always have lying around? Gil and I wanted to see if we can cook it in the sink. Mattie swears it won't work, but that just makes me want to do it more, haha. Thanks in advance, man._

_ Gotta go write to my mom now, or she'll kill me, even from halfway across the country, ahaha. Anyway, write me back with how things are going back in the city!_

_ Alfred (made of AWESOME) Jones_

Kiku smiled slightly and shook his head. His friend was really quite amusing. He grimaced at the idea of making ramen in the sink, though. Really, that was a bit unsanitary. Regardless, he resolved to get it sent out in the mail by the next day.

He folded up the letter and placed it in his desk drawer before pulling out a notepad and a ballpoint pen. _Dear Alfred…_

_

* * *

_

Saturdays were co-ed days. The boy's camp met up with the nearby girl's camp for morning activities, a big afternoon event, and then a dance in the evening. There were various morning activities to choose from, but you had to stick with the same one every Saturday. When given the choice, Arthur had chosen cooking, but when begged by several of his cabinmates to change his mind, he went with archery. The British boy honestly had no idea why nobody wanted him to cook, but archery was just as good as any other activity.

He drew back his arm and squinted down the shaft of the arrow, trying to aim right for the center of the target. Once he was satisfied with his aim, he released the bowstring and the arrow buried itself deep in the small yellow circle with a satisfying 'thwack'. He set down the bow and rubbed distractedly at his wrist, where the string was beginning to leave a red, raw mark.

"Um, excuse me, are you all right?" Came a timid voice from behind him. He turned around and looked down to find a girl a few years younger than he with short blonde hair and green eyes. In fact, she looked almost exactly like his angry Swiss counselor.

"Oh, um, yes, I'm fine, thank you." He waved his hand in an attempt to dismiss his minor injury. "And, ah, who are you?"

"Oh! I'm Lili. I'm sorry for not introducing myself earlier." She blushed embarrassedly.

"It's no problem." The older boy smiled kindly. "I'm Arthur, by the way." His considerably large eyebrows lifted in surprise for a moment as he realized the reason for the girl's resemblance to Vash. "You must be Vash's younger sister."

"Yes, that's me!" She smiled brightly. "How did you know?"

"Well, Vash is my counselor, and you two look very alike." He paused for a moment, thoughtfully. "Your personalities seem almost opposite, though."

"People tell me that all the time." She picked up the bow. "Do you mind if I try?"

"Not at all." Arthur replied. Lili smiled sweetly and picked up the bow, and proceeded to shoot off three arrows in lightning-fast succession and deadly accuracy. The tousle-haired teen gaped at the target. All of the arrows had hit dead-center, one of them splitting his own in half down the shaft. He looked down at the small girl, still smiling pleasantly, then back up at her handiwork.

"W-wow." Was all he could get out. She really _was _Vash's little sister, after all.

* * *

Alfred loved sports. He enjoyed them and he was good at them. So naturally, he signed up to play sports in the field on Saturdays, just like every other year (except for that year when he hiked 100 miles during the camp session. Then he just went on hikes).

He pushed his bangs out of his face, took another gulp of water, and stood up, stretching. The short break would be over soon, and the group would get back to ultimate frisbee. It was guys versus girls (because yeah, they were all mature like that) and the guys were totally creaming, mostly thanks to Alfred. Gilbert was helpful too, but only because he was in constant competition with Elizaveta, who was one of the only two real threats posed by the girls (the other being Ivan's beautiful but frightening younger sister, Natalia), and he slowed her down. Well, a little bit anyways. She was hard to stop. Alfred honestly had no idea how someone as strong-willed and outspoken as she was could ever have been friends with Gilbert, even when they were little kids. He would think two people like that would tear each other to pieces. Although, from what he's heard from his German friend, that's pretty much what their friendship was based on.

"Hey guys! Ready to start back up?" He called out to the various teens scattered across the field. People started getting back on their feet and wandering over to their side of the field. Alfred jogged over to where is team was gathering near their end-zone. "Alright, positions, people! And remember to mark your player. Let's get going!"

The teams fell into position and the counselor who was refereeing the game, an exuberant Danish man with spiky hair, blew his whistle to signal the start. The girls were the defense, and Elizaveta threw the disk hard at Gilbert's head. Alfred started running, hoping that the German boy would manage to catch the frisbee and pass it up the field. He weaved in between players, and seeing that Gilbert had caught the disc, he darted for an opening on the left side of the field.

"Yo Gilbo! Over here!" He waved his arms as he ran, catching the white-haired boy's attention. Gilbert quickly aimed on tossed the frisbee just as Elizaveta knocked into him from the side, sending him tumbling to the floor (and cursing loudly, of course). Alfred jumped, about to grab the disc soaring towards him, but it suddenly disappeared in a flash of silver and navy blue. Natalia.

_Damn, _he thought, _I should've gotten two people to mark her._ He sprinted after her, but what he had in strength and overall speed she had in quickness and agility. A couple other players made dives for her, but they didn't even come close as she breezed past them and over the line into the end zone. Alfred skidded to a stop when she crossed the line, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Nice play." He held out his hand, but she brushed it aside and stalked back to her team, dropping the frisbee as she left. He stooped to pick it up. "Jeez, she doesn't have to be so frigid. I was just being friendly. Well, another one of the Braginskis that I'll never really get along with, I guess." He mumbled to himself as he aimed and tossed the disc over to the other side of the field, and the game was on again.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he stepped into the shower. Archery didn't get you particularly dirty, but his arms were sore and he still felt the need to wash up. Luckily he'd been among the first to return to the cabin after lunch (a leftover buffet which he found unappetizing).

He fiddled with the temperature for a minute before giving up. The water was always too hot or too cold, and there was really nothing he could do about it. There was no water pressure, either, but at least they _had _showers, he thought.

"Hey dude, I'm gonna go wash the mud off. That was a pretty intense game!" Arthur started as he heard Alfred's loud voice coming from the main room. "Are there any free showers?" The blue-eyed teen called into the bathroom.

"Ah, um, yes, the second two are free." He called back, loud enough to be heard over the running water. He heard Alfred come into the bathroom and step into the shower beside his.

"Oh, hey, Artie!" The American greeted him. Arthur could see his arms, lifted above his head as he stripped off his t-shirt. "How was archery?"

"Fine." He laughed inwardly for a moment. "I met Vash's little sister."

"Oh yeah, she does archery every year." He could hear the smile in Alfred's voice, even through the wall that separated them. "She's something, huh? Totally sweet, but damn if she isn't deadly."

"She split my arrow in half."

"That's her all right." Alfred laughed. There was silence for a moment before Arthur decided to speak.

"So…how was, what is it, ultimate frisbee?"

"Oh, it was great! It was guys versus girls, and we won! Gil and Elizaveta were hilarious, too." He stopped for a moment. "Ivan's little sister was kind of a pain, though."

"You mean she was good at the game?" Arthur asked. He hadn't even known that Ivan _had_ a little sister, but if she was anything like the Russian then he was a little worried.

"Well, that too." The smile was gone from his voice now. "But she was just kind of rude, you know. I was just trying to be friendly, and she didn't even say a word to me. I mean, come on, who does that?" He trailed off.

Arthur couldn't help but smile. Instead of being outraged at the girl's rudeness, as he probably would have been, the taller teen just seemed hurt, like he was wondering what he did to cause her to act that way. It was really kind of endearing how Alfred was so bothered by it, even if he didn't consciously realize it. He really cared about other people's opinions and how they felt, even if he tried so hard to hide it. Alfred, Arthur decided, really was a nice guy at heart, even if he seemed annoying and self-centered.

"Come now, Alfred, you can't befriend _everyone_ with smiles and good cheer. Some people just don't want to be friendly."

"Yeah, I know, but just…jeez, it just doesn't quite brighten my day, y'know?" He laughed a little sheepishly. "Sorry for whining at you."

"It's all right, you weren't whining." Arthur smiled warmly, knowing the other couldn't see him. "Now would you pass me the soap?"

"Sure thing, dude." Alfred tossed the bar of soap over the divider, hitting Arthur on the head with an audible 'thunk'.

"Hey! That was my head, you know!" The British boy sputtered in indignation.

Before Alfred could reply, a taunting, French voice drifted in from outside the showers. "Having _shower conversations_, are we, hm?"

Arthur banged his head against the shower door. "Go away Francis. Creep on somebody else, please."

"Alright, fine, I will go talk to somebody who appreciates me." Francis sighed dramatically. "Oh, and by the way, Arthur," He paused right outside the door. "I can see through your shower curtain."

Chuckling to himself, he walked away to the sound of curses and death threats spewing from the bathroom behind him.

* * *

**Alrighty, so that's that. This took me about a day longer than I planned, mainly because I've become hopelessly addicted to Tumblr. It kind of ruins your ability to get anything done. But I don't think I took _too_ long this time.**

**Anyway, reviews are loved as always. I BREATHE THEM. LIKE OXYGEN. :D**


	9. Dancing Dodgeball

**Here, have a Chapter 9.**

* * *

Arthur hated dances. He hated the loud music blasting, the lack of personal space in the crowded room, the awkward standing around on the sidelines while the confident and self-assured people danced. Well, if you could call it dancing. Arthur himself was quite good at dancing, having taken ballroom dancing classes when he was younger. This, however, was not dancing in any way that he knew of. This was jumping around to pounding electronic beats and generally acting mad.

He pushed past a crowd of girls dancing in a circle, and made his way outside. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he found an empty bench and looked out over the camp grounds. The dances were held in a big building next to the sports field that really served no other purpose than to house people during co-ed events. The porch did have a nice view though.

Arthur sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands. He could still hear the music, but it was at a bearable volume now. All around him people were chatting and flirting and eating ice cream.

He spotted Peter, his friend, whose name he had learned was Raivis, and a boy with blond hair and glasses that looked about a year younger than Arthur talking to Lili and a small girl around Peter's age with reddish-brown hair in a side ponytail. Vash was glaring at them protectively, but none of them seemed to notice. Behind them Gilbert was bothering irritated-looking girl with a flower in her hair who Arthur supposed must be Elizaveta.

He turned to his other side and noticed Toris babbling nervously at a silver-haired girl as Felix pouted and pulled at his arm, probably trying to get him to dance. As he watched, girl turned away and walked over to where Ivan was sitting with another girl, this one with short hair and considerable, er, assets. As he watched them, Arthur realized that these must be Ivan's sisters. As he turned away he saw Felix finally succeeding in his quest to pull Toris inside and onto the dance floor.

He sighed again, trying not to look at the happy, laughing, sociable people crowded around him. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to be outgoing, on the contrary, he much preferred his solitary pursuits. It was just…he envied how happy they were, how close they all were with each other. He didn't exactly want to be the life of the party, but it would be nice to, well, have a friend. Somebody who genuinely liked him, who he liked in return.

Arthur felt the bench shift and looked over, startled, into sky blue eyes just as an arm was thrown over his shoulder. He froze for a moment, then looked away quickly as he felt the inexplicable heat burn his cheeks. "Hey Artie, what'cha doing out here all by your lonesome? C'mon inside and dance!" Alfred smiled brilliantly, oblivious to Arthur's obvious discomfort.

"That's not _dance_." Arthur grumbled, happy to retreat to his usual grumpiness. He had no earthly idea why he didn't just shove Alfred's arm off him, or scoot away down the bench. Why he just sat there, frozen and blushing up to his ears. Why he didn't just _move_.

"Hey c'mon. It _so _is! You're just old-fashioned." Alfred stuck out his tongue for a moment before his ever-present bright grin returned. "And hey, if you don't wanna dance, we can sit out here and like, watch the stars or…or something." He trailed off, smiling earnestly in Arthur's direction, his hopeful bright blue eyes looking even bigger then they usually did, and the Brit quickly realized that this was because their faces were a little too close together. He hadn't a clue when he had begun leaning into Alfred's arm instead of sitting straight and stiff, but he quickly looked anywhere but the American's bright, bright blue eyes.

Alfred smiled softly, and although Arthur was busy staring out at the _fascinating_ landscape, he could hear it in the taller boy's voice when he spoke. "Whatever you wanna do is cool with me, as long as you're having fun." At that, Arthur turned to look at the American. His soft expression, his honey-colored bangs falling endearingly into his eyes, those earnest,_ gorgeous_ blue eyes…

Oh. _Oh._ _That's _why he didn't move.

* * *

Matthew sighed and took a breath of fresh air as he stepped outside and away from the crowded dance floor. Francis followed closely behind him, lounging languidly against the doorframe. The Canadian leaned against the wall next to his French friend and surveyed the people scattered here and there around the porch. Francis did as well, and apparently he found someone or something amusing, because he began chuckling quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?" Matt asked after a moment.

"Regarde-là." Francis pointed over to a bench at the edge of the porch. "C'est notre petit Anglais et ton cousin." Matthew looked over where Francis was pointing, and sure enough, there was Alfred, laughing a little too loudly and grinning a little too widely, just like always, with his arm slung around the shoulders of a very flustered-looking Brit.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I see that. Since when are they _not_ together? They've been like glue all week."

"It is adorable, non?"

"I don't know about _that._ I'd just call it Al being obnoxious at the new guy." Matthew looked back over at Francis. "What, you don't think…?" He trailed off as he saw the sparkles in the Frenchman's eyes. He knew all too well what was coming.

"Oui, Mattieu. C'est _l'amour._" He swooned melodramatically. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"_Really_, Francis? Does _everything_ have to be about 'l'amour' with you?"

"Oui, mon cher. L'amour, c'est tout." He laughed, but the next time he spoke it was with significantly less jest, although he still had that devious twinkle in his eyes. "But look at them, Mattieu, really _look _at them."

"I _am_. All I see is Alfred being annoying and invading Arthur's personal space." The Canadian crossed his arms.

"You are correct. He is indeed invading the Englishman's personal bubble. But look closer." Francis smirked. "Notre petit lapin certainly isn't objecting."

The bespectacled boy looked back over at the pair, and at Arthur, sitting there, looking slightly uncomfortable, but making no effort to move away. _Okay. So what if he's right about that. I'm still going to argue my point. _Matthew thought. "So what? He's probably being polite."

"You do not understand. Arthur is not _polite_. He sees in himself a well-mannered English gentleman, but really he is quite the ruffian. Believe me, Mattieu, I have experience with his prickly nature. He is not one to tolerate any invasion of personal space." The Frenchman grimaced at the thought. "And look at that blush on his face, and his glare. That is not a truly angry glare, mon cher, that is a 'I have no idea what to do with myself in this situation so I shall resort to being short-tempered' glare. And indeed, our poor Englishman really hasn't an idea of what to do with himself." Francis chuckled. Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but Francis raised a finger, signaling for him to wait.

"Now look at your cousin. He is so sweet, always looking out for Arthur, making sure he's having fun. Surely it is not purposeful, but just look at how he sits their with his arm around l'Anglais, right up close, smiling and laughing without a care in the world because Arthur is by his side. I know Alfred well enough. Do not try to tell me that he does that with anyone else, because I _know _that he does not. The smiling and laughing, yes, but never before have I seen him sit with his arm around anyone like that." Francis finished off, smiling smugly.

"Well…well…" Matthew looked over at them again. Well, they _were_ a little close, and…_damn_. "You…might actually be right.

"Of course I am correct! I am an expert in the ways of l'amour." Francis held out his hand in a dramatic flourish. "Now, Mattieu, we have rested outside long enough. Veux-tu danser avec moi?"

Matthew rolled his eyes and grinned at how amazingly cheesy the Frenchman was, but nevertheless blushed and took Francis' hand, letting himself be lead inside and back onto the dance floor._ As soon as the one slow song of the night starts playing, of course._

_

* * *

_

"Hey Liz! You wanna play dodgeball?" Gilbert called loudly over the pounding music. Elizaveta ignored him and continued dancing with her friends, a blonde girl with a headband and a girl with dark hair tied in two low ponytails with red ribbons. Gilbert pushed through the crowd and punched the Hungarian girl in the arm to get her attention.

"Ow! What the hell was that for, dumbass?" It certainly had gotten her attention.

"I _said_, do you wanna play dodgeball? Me and some other guys are tired of dancing, so we grabbed some balls and we're gonna play on the tennis courts." She crossed her arms, looking bored. He smirked. "And hey, I'm only inviting you because it'll be fun to kick your ass."

"Hey!" She straightened up. "I'll be the one doing the ass-kicking. And fine, I'll play." He did a mini fist-pump. "Any opportunity to pound you into the dust." She breezed past him and out the door, heading down to the nearby tennis courts. He jogged after her.

They were greeted at the tennis court by sweet smiles from Lili, scowls from Vash (who felt that the game needed supervision, since his little sister was playing), grins (and bouncing) from Alfred, and a bored expression from Arthur (who Alfred had apparently convinced to play).

Gilbert jogged out to the center of the court, scooping up one of the balls as he went and tossing it up and down. "Alright, so I'm team captain, obviously, since I'm awesome. Liz can be the other team captain, since there's no way in hell she's playing on my team." Elizaveta stuck out her tounge; Gilbert responded with a rude hand gesture. "So I pick first. Hmm…yo, Al! Get over here, man!" Alfred let out a quick cheer and jogged over, slapping Gilbert a high-five.

"All right, _my _turn. I choose Lili." Elizaveta looked over at the German boy out of the corner of her eye and smirked. He looked _just_ a little less confident than before.

"Fine then! I get Vash!" The counselor glared harder, but nevertheless moved over to where his team was assembling. "That leaves you with Arthur. Hah! Girls against boys!" Gilbert laughed raucously, and Arthur lobbed a pinecone at his head (the British boy was beginning to sense a theme here. Gilbert's moronic head was just a magnet for projectiles).

Elizaveta leapt over the net to the other half of the court, and waited while her two team members walked around. "Alright, blockhead." She called to the other side of the court. "One minute group huddle then we start!" She kicked a couple of balls towards the center and turned to her team.

On the other side of the court, Gilbert and Alfred were attempting unsuccessfully to get Vash to join a huddle (because really, a two person huddle just doesn't _work_).

"Well, all right dudes." Gilbert gave up, straightening back up to give instructions. "Play hard, kick asses. Just remember, Liz is allll mine." He cracked his knuckles, which of course, because it was Gilbert, ended with him yelling in pain and shaking out his hand rather than looking intimidating.

Elizaveta's instructions were almost the opposite. "Okay, everyone. Aim. For. Gilbert." She turned to face the opposing team, and called "Readyyyyy!"

Gilbert answered the call. Arthur was beginning to really have misgivings about this whole situation, and he was about to volunteer to referee because this seemed rather intense, and putting him in any sort of sporting event was absolutely ridiculous and- "Go!"

_Oh dear._ Suddenly everyone was sprinting towards the center, and he followed at full tilt, desperate not to make _too_ much of a fool of himself when he realized.

_Shit. I don't know the rules._ And the game was on.

* * *

**Because I feel like Francis is the type to just speak French even when everyone else is speaking English (and also because it's cheesy), here's some quick Francis translations:**

**Regarde-là = look there**

**C'est notre petit Anglais et ton cousin = It's our little Englishman and your cousin**

**l'amour = love (of course)**

**Oui, mon cher. L'amour, c'est tout. = Yes, my dear. Love is everything.**

**Notre petit lapin = Our little rabbit (because Arthur is a bunny rabbit. Yes.)  
**

**Veux-tu danser avec moi? = Would you like to dance with me?  
**

**Ahaha wow, I feel cheesy...Anyway, apologies for the delay, but junior year is kind of kicking my ass. I've literally not stopped working all week except to write this, and it's not likely to let up, so updates are going to be farther between, sorry.**


	10. Actual Dancing This Time

**And here is chapter ten. I'm sorry I took so ridiculously long to churn it out. Do you guys still love me? \;w;/**

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Arthur groaned and leaned back into the leather couch in the nurse's office, still clinging to his wrist. He scooted farther away from Gilbert, who sat beside him nursing a bump on his head and looking like he was going to murder something. Alfred sat in the chair to his right, bouncing nervously and looking generally like a kicked puppy. The British teen was beginning to get a little exasperated with the tense silence in the room.

"Look." He sighed, frowning and turning to face the American. "It's not your fault. I'll be fine."

"But y-you're hurt!" Alfred turned toward the busy-browed teen, face full of dismay. "And it's my fault! I let that happen! Oh god I'm so…what kind of a hero _am _I?"

Alfred's look of absolute dejection didn't stop Arthur from being irritated with him, although not for the same reason the taller boy was angry at himself. Granted, Arthur had had his wrist bent back by a wayward ball that Alfred had thrown, and it was currently hurting like a bitch, but that didn't make him angry with the American. It _had_ been an accident, and after some initial cursing he realized that it really wasn't anyone's fault but his own for trying to catch the damn thing. No, what irritated Arthur was Alfred's inability to just move past it. It was a stupid accident, and Arthur had already told him several times that it wasn't his fault, so why was he still so hung up on it? Truthfully, it was starting to get on Arthur's nerves, and he was afraid he was going to have to snap at the blue-eyed boy. And he really didn't want to do that, considering how unhappy said boy was at this very moment.

The room settled back into an uncomfortable silence, Alfred half waiting for a response to his question and Arthur having no idea what he was supposed to say (and Gilbert ignoring them both in favor of swearing revenge on his Hungarian frenemy), until the door was flung open with a bang. Standing in the doorway was the dark-haired girl that Elizaveta had been hanging out with earlier. She was panting slightly, having obviously run over from the lodge. She straightened herself up and began to speak.

"All right, you lot, I'm Chelles. The nurse is chaperoning the dance and can't leave to deal with your stupidity, so she sent me over." Well. She was obviously rather cross at having to leave the dance. "So which one of you do I deal with first?" She huffed and crossed her arms, plopping down in one of the chairs and looking generally like an angry toddler.

"Just gimme some antiseptic and a goddamn bandaid and I'll be outta here." Gilbert grumbled a bit under his breath about how he wasn't allowed to just get it himself and had to wait for ten minutes 'with these two idiots'. Chelles did not appreciate this, and threw the requested supplies in his general direction. He flipped her a rude gesture and stormed out, smearing antiseptic cream over the cut-bump-bruise combo on his forehead as he went.

"Ugh, what an asshole. I have no earthly idea why Liz likes him." Chelles sighed and brushed one of her pigtails behind her shoulder. "Now what do _you_ need, blondie?" She turned to Alfred.

"Oh, um, I don't need anything, I'm just here to make sure he's okay!" She rolled her eyes, and he looked apologetic and pointed at Arthur, who sighed and held up his hand.

"I just need this taken care of." He winced a little as Chelles grabbed his hand and pulled it towards herself to inspect the damage. After a quick look she grabbed a roll of bandages from the counter and started wrapping up his wrist.

"I don't think you've sprained it, but it doesn't hurt to be careful, so I'm going to wrap it up anyway. Don't do anything stupid with it for the next couple of days."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Alfred piped up, curious.

"I took a first aid class last year." That was it. They she worked in silence for a moment before Alfred spoke up again.

"Waaait a minute. You said Liz likes Gilbert. Liz HATES Gilbert!" He was a little slow on the uptake, it seemed.

Chelles had to let go of Arthur's wrist for a moment as she giggled uncontrollably. "W-who told you _that_ one? Ha!" She chuckled for a moment and then picked up Arthur's hand again and went back to work. "She only pretends to hate him. She swears to everyone she does, but we all know better. I think she even tricks herself into it, though."

"But doesn't she have a boyfriend at home?

"Oh, you didn't hear?" She laughed a little. "No, of course you wouldn't, she wouldn't have told any of you. She probably doesn't want Gilbert to know. But anyway, you're talking about Roderich, right? Well, don't tell Gil, because she'll kill me if you do, but she broke up with him right before camp this year. He was too possessive or something, I don't know, but anyway she couldn't deal with it anymore. So yeah, no more boyfriend. There, all done." She dropped Arthur's hand, which he promptly tried to stretch, and then winced.

"This is cutting off my circulation. Can't we do it a bit looser?" He complained. Really, at least give him some painkillers, since the wrap just made it hurt _more_, and he was not in the mood to deal with it.

"Well excuuuuuse me, mister perfect, why don't you do it your damn self?" Chelles gave him a scandalized look and flipped her pigtails. "I'm going to go have some fun while you complain." The stood up and stalked out the door, presumably back to the dance floor and the pounding music.

"Bitch." He grumbled, tugging at the bandage, trying in vain to loosen it.

"Um, Artie…that wasn't very nice…but are you okay?" Alfred's face appeared in front of him, a combination of sheepishness, reproach, and worry.

"I'm fine, I've already told you. And it's her own fault, she was just as rude as I was, if not more so." He huffed, turning away.

"Ahaha, well, okay. If you say so." Alfred wasn't worried about Chelles' feelings being hurt; she seemed pretty strong emotionally. She and Arthur would probably hate each other forever, though. They both seemed like the type to hold a grudge.

"I _do _say so. Now come on, let's go. It smells like medicine in here." Arthur got up to leave, and Alfred followed him out the door.

"So…the dance isn't over yet. You want to go back over there?" Alfred was still looking a little sheepish.

"Fine, fine. But I am _not_ dancing."

"We'll see, huh?" The American laughed, seeming to return to his normal, cheerful self at the concession, and grabbed Arthur's good hand. He set off at a jog, pulling the shorter boy behind him.

"Oi! Why do you have to be so damned enthusiastic? And we will _not_ see anything other than me not dancing, thank you very much!" Arthur flushed and sputtered complaints as Alfred tugged him along, his laughter getting louder with the Brit's protests.

* * *

Feliciano laughed as he grabbed Ludwig's hands and started swinging them around to the music in a vain attempt to get the German to dance. Ludwig stood firm, looking thoroughly embarrassed, but let his shorter friend wave his arms back and forth with a resigned sigh.

"Ve, Ludwig, look!" The Italian did a little twirl and pointed over to the corner of the room. "Antonio is dancing with fratello!" He giggled. "Fratello looks so mad though." Ludwig looked over, and indeed, there was Antonio dancing with a very grumpy and flustered looking Lovino.

"Hey Ludwig?" The blond boy looked down to see his friend suddenly looking a little vulnerable. "Fratello has someone to dance with him, so…will you dance with me?"

Ludwig looked at Feliciano for a second, surprised, before blushing and nodding. He took the shorter boy's hand and awkwardly rested his other hand on Feliciano's waist. Feliciano chirped in happiness, threw his arm over the taller teen's shoulder and started to sway back and forth, grinning up at his dance partner. And looking down at Feliciano's bright smile, Ludwig couldn't help but smile a little too.

* * *

"Dance with me." Alfred threw out his hand towards Arthur in a rather hilariously melodramatic fashion.

"Never." Arthur tossed his head to the side, pointedly ignoring the outstretched hand that was being waved in his general direction.

"I bet it's cause you can't dance." Arthur looked up sharply. Alfred was wiggling his eyebrows and looking at him knowingly.

"Of course not. I'm a perfectly competent dancer." He _was_, actually. His mother had made him take dance classes when he was little, and although he had quit as soon as he could (it was horrendously embarrassing to be the only boy in school who knew any ballet), he had had a bit of a talent for it and what he had learned stuck with him.

Alfred grinned at him, looking like a cat that's got the canary in it's mouth, only the canary, for some unfathomable reason, was not yet aware of that fact. "Then prove it."

"What? No." Arthur scowled and shook his head. "I'm not that easily provoked, you moron."

Alfred leaned in a little closer, and grinned a little wider. Arthur felt a little uneasy. "Alright then, Artie," he started quietly, but loud enough that Arthur could hear him over the music blasting from the speakers near where they were standing, "if you won't dance with me, I'll have to inform everyone's favorite Frenchman that you won't dance because you have two left feet. Oh, and because you only know ballet."

"I do _not_ only know ballet! I know quite a few forms of dance, thank you very much!" Arthur glared at him.

Alfred looked stunned for a second, and then started to giggle.

"What? Why are you laughing?" Arthur snapped.

"It's just…just…" Alfred forced his words out between giggling fits. "You actually…took ballet? I didn't think you actually took ballet! I was just saying that to make you dance…oh my god, Artie, that is so _you_. I should'a known, hah, _ballet._" He fell back into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

Arthur ran his and down his face in an attempt to calm the irritation bubbling up inside him before replying. "Yes, Alfred, I took ballet. I also took several other, equally embarrassing dance classes. I also haven't taken any of the classes since I was eight. I quit as soon as I got the chance, but I resent that you claim I can't dance, because god dammit, I went through that torture for _something._" He sighed and smirked up at Alfred, who had calmed his giggling. "And I'm going to show you exactly what that something is"

With that, he grabbed Alfred's hand and spun him around and onto the dance floor. The music wasn't right, the floor was crowded, but Arthur was determined to prove his point. "Now the question is, Alfred, do _you_ know how to dance?" Alfred gulped as Arthur raised one eyebrow and smirked at him, before suddenly pulling him off in a maze of steps and spins as Alfred stumbled confusedly along, always a step behind and never having any idea what his crazy dance partner was going to do next.

* * *

"Wow. Okay." Alfred leaned over, panting. "I was _so_ wrong. You _can _dance."

"And don't you go forgetting it." Arthur leaned lazily against the wall, still smirking and not even out of breath.

Alfred straightened up and began to laugh, looking over at his friend.

"What is it _now_?" Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I still got you to dance with me." Now it was Alfred's turn to smirk. Arthur turned bright red for about three seconds before he smacked the taller boy upside the head, then turned and stalked off. Alfred followed him, still laughing. People were starting to filter out anyway. And overall, he reflected, the night had been a total success.

* * *

**So yes, in addition to the aforementioned ballroom dancing, Arthur has also taken a bit of ballet. I'm sorry. I had to.**

**Also, sorry I skipped the actual dancing. I know less than nothing about any kind of dancing, and I didn't want to screw it up epically (any more than I already have, of course).**

**The next update will be sooner, I promise. More like three weeks this time, instead of three months.**


	11. Sundays, Siblings, and Science Fiction

**See, I was quicker this time! And here you have the story of a lazy Sunday posted on a lazy sunday. Also I have noticed that I seem to like alliteration in chapter titles. Hmm.**

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**

One thing that Alfred and Arthur did have in common was that neither of them were morning people. Neither of them appreciated getting up early in the morning. The difference, though, was that Arthur was one of those people that you couldn't drag out of bed if hell was freezing over, while Alfred, while he didn't appreciate having to get up early to do something unpleasant, like, for instance, school, could easily be enticed out of bed by the prospect of some reward. So when Arthur woke up on Sunday morning at 8:50, he found himself alone in the cabin, except for a few others, who were still sleeping.

He yawned and stretched lazily, dragging himself over to his locker and tugging on his sneakers, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas. It was Sunday, after all, and apparently you were supposed to stay in them all day anyway, according to what Alfred had told him the night before when, on the van back from the dance, Arthur had asked what exactly they were supposed to do the next day. Alfred had simply replied with "not a thing!" and dragged him out of the van and off towards the lodge for some hot chocolate. Arthur found out later from Vash that breakfast started at eight, but was a buffet that lasted until nine-thirty, so he could sleep in a bit. Apparently there really _were_ no planned activities; this was the day to relax in your cabin. All you had to do was write a letter home by lunch-the camp administration wanted to make sure that your parents knew you were alive-and then, in the evening, go on a short hike to an outcropping of rocks for "vespers", which wasn't a religious service as the dictionary definition indicated, but instead more of a calm singing from the camp songbook, reciting inspirational quotations, and generally enjoying nature sort of thing. Arthur thought it sounded quite pleasant, especially because talking was not allowed. He wondered how Alfred ever managed it.

He slouched out the door, still yawning, being careful to close it softly behind him so as to not wake anyone else who was still sleeping. He could feel his pajama bottoms scraping along the gravel path as he walked up to the lodge. He cursed inwardly and bent down to roll them up-he didn't want them fraying beyond repair. He heard laughter and the clinking of plates coming from the lodge, and he peered inside, eyes quickly finding the table where Alfred sat with Matthew, Toris, Felix and…wait…was that _Peter_?

Arthur sighed in exasperation as he moved quickly through the line, now very short since it was late in the morning, and piled his plate with various fruits and a one of the last pieces of coffeecake (because hey, why not? The coffeecake was the reason people woke up early to get to breakfast, so he might as well try it while there's still some left). He had forgotten that since this was a buffet, you were not restricted to sitting with your cabin. So of course his little brother had taken the opportunity to come and irritate him.

He walked over to the table and slammed his plate down rather harder that was absolutely necessary directly opposite Alfred, sat down, and started eating without so much as a "good morning."

Alfred stopped shoveling coffeecake into his mouth for a moment and looked up. He was about to say something when Peter cut in, leaning across the table from his seat next to Alfred to poke Arthur's cheek. "Hey jerkface! Why so grumpy, huh?"

Arthur batted his hand away. "You!" He snapped. "Now go away! Go eat breakfast with your friends."

"Alfred _is _my friend!" Peter crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out at his older sibling. "Right, Alfred?" Alfred, meanwhile, looked helplessly between the two, mouth full of cinnamon-sugar topping.

"Um, mrflksdf?" He uttered some incoherent and noncommittal syllables through his mouthful of food, glancing back and forth between the glaring siblings. _Damn, _he thought, _I thought Arthur could beat anyone in a glare-off…well, Peter has the eyebrows too, I guess. They must be the source of Arthur's scariness._

"See? He said yes!"

"That was not a _yes_, Peter, that was a 'I've got no idea what to say in this so obviously perilous situation so I'm going to mumble and hope neither of them kills me'"

"Was too a yes!" Peter flicked a grape at his Arthur, hitting him square in the middle of the forehead. Arthur threw down his fork with a clatter and dived across the table at his brother as said brother slipped out from under his fingers and scampered off, laughing, between crowded tables, rejoining his rather nervous-looking friend at a table on the opposite side of the lodge from Arthur and company. Arthur settled back in his seat, throwing one last glare in his sibling's general direction, and began to stab his food rather more violently than was absolutely necessary. The rest of the table sat in silence for a moment as Arthur ate grumpily, before he sighed in exasperation and looked up sharply, scanning the slightly fearful faces turned towards him. Felix had grabbed onto Toris and was regarding him with wide eyes, and Toris himself looked a little nervous. Matthew simply looked surprised, and Alfred still had that sheepish look on his face.

"What?" He snapped. Felix squeaked. Matthew held up his hands in a gesture of 'we come in peace' and shook his head.

"N-nothing! Nothing at all." He lowered his hands and tentatively picked up his fork again. Felix slowly untangled himself from Toris and they went back to eating, eyes downcast.

"All right, sorry." Arthur sighed again, gritting his teeth. "I happen not to be a morning person, and my brother happens to be a twerp. I wasn't going to kill him or whatever you all are thinking. You can calm down. What, do none of you have siblings? Or do you all miraculously get along?"

Alfred made a face. "Hey…I actually don't think any of us _do _have siblings." The other three affirmed his suspicion.

Arthur sighed for the nth time that morning. "Well, you're all ridiculously lucky then." He went back to skewering grapes with the tines of his fork with undue amounts of venom. Felix and Toris finished up their meals and headed back to the cabin, while Matthew and Alfred resumed their (mostly) friendly argument over all things Canadian versus all things American that seemed to be a constant with them.

There was a lull in the conversation, but Arthur paid no attention, intent on hiding behind his shell of grumpiness all day if need be. Suddenly, and to his great irritation, he felt his chin pushed up. He raised his eyes and glowered across the table at Alfred, who had reached across the table to him.

"Ey, chin up. It's Sunday, Sundays are awesome!" Alfred grinned brightly, (thankfully) removing his hand now that Arthur's head was up and his attention was on him. "C'mon, have you even tried the coffeecake yet?" He waved a forkful in the grumpy Brit's general direction. "Seriously, it's delicious. Nobody can be unhappy with coffeecake, there is most definitely scientific evidence to prove that, and I am right. So try some."

Alfred's insistence and general ridiculousness made Arthur want to refuse. God, on principle, he should storm off back to the cabin and continue his irritable solitude. But he was still too busy willing away the blush that had appeared when Alfred had decided to invade his personal space a few moments ago. So he griped and he grumbled under his breath, but he picked up his fork and took a grudging bite of coffeecake. He had to admit, it _was_ very good, possibly the best coffeecake he'd ever had (not that he ate much of the stuff, of course). He wasn't about to tell that to the smug blond sitting across from him, though. He may have given in a little, but he wasn't about to let Alfred have a complete victory.

"See? I'm right. You are now magically less grumpy." Arthur tossed a grape at him, but couldn't suppress a little sliver of a smile. Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly, gathering his empty plate and utensils and taking them up to the back of the lodge to get them ready to be washed. Neither of the other two noticed him go.

* * *

As Alfred was leaving breakfast he realized that, the day before, he had forgotten to check the package room. This was rather unheard-of, when he was expecting a package. Which he most definitely was. One with food in it, to be exact.

"Eyyy, Artie, we're making a detour!" Arthur yelped as Alfred grabbed his hand (not arm, _hand_. Why couldn't Alfred just grab his forearm or something? Why couldn't Alfred just refrain from touching him _at all_?) and dragged him off towards a shed between the lodge and the pool. Alfred burst through the door, thankfully releasing Arthur's hand as he began to scan the names on the packages with which the shed was filled. He leapt into the air in delight upon finding one with his name on it, grabbing it and spinning around in a circle before running back out the door, past a very confused Arthur and towards the cabin.

"Come on, Artie!" He called over his shoulder. "Don't you wanna see what Kiku sent me?" Arthur jogged a little to catch up with his friend, (because they definitely were friends now, there was no denying it. How they had become so close so very quickly, Arthur had no idea, but he already felt like he had known Alfred forever.) who in turn slowed down a bit to let him catch up.

"Who's Kiku?" Arthur asked as he fell into step beside the American.

"Kiku's my best friend back home. I asked him to send me some ramen in my last letter, but this box feels like it's got some more stuff in it too! Aw man, Kiku's packages are always the _best_! Well, it's between him and my mom, so yeah. But still, they're awesome!" He bounced, kicking off his shoes on the cabin porch as they arrived, and tore inside to find some scissors. Arthur followed, watching with raised eyebrows as Alfred threw the box down on Matthew's bed and tore open the packaging, almost spilling packing peanuts all over the floor but catching the box at the last second.

"Yesss! Aw man, there is a TON of ramen! We can all have some!" People had started to gather around, interested. It was always fun when someone in the cabin got a package from home; there was always the chance of free food.

The package ended up being rather full of food. Aside from the twenty packages of instant ramen, Kiku had sent two rather large boxes of pocky plus a bag of assorted fruit candy and a bag full of those chocolate peppermint patties. Along with the food was a blue police box that Alfred promptly took the top of, and, as expected and to his great delight, it was filled with chocolate chip cookies. Apparently his mother had baked them. Arthur, however, was less interested in the cookies and more in the jar.

"Alfred." He began, almost skeptically. "Is that…the TARDIS?"

Alfred immediately looked infinitely more excited. "You know what it is? Oh man, of course you do, you're British!" He grinned brightly. "Yup, it's my mom's cookie jar! I bought it when she broke her last one, because hey, bigger on the inside equals more cookies! Looks like Kiku and my mom worked together on this one."

Matthew rolled his eyes and peered over at the jar. "Yup, that's Al all the way. He's a nerd through and through. Got Star Wars posters in his bedroom and everything."

Alfred went a little red at that. "S-so what? Just because I like science and math and sci-fi doesn't mean I'm socially inept or anything! It just makes me smart!"

Arthur chuckled. "Of course you _would_ be a nerd."

"Hey! You knew what it was! That makes you one too!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm British, Alfred. It's kind of a cultural icon. It's hard not to know what it is."

Alfred looked scandalized. "Wait…don't tell me…you don't watch Doctor Who? That is so sad! Your life is not complete!"

Arthur was full-on laughing now. "Oh, you are _such _a nerd. But yes, of course I have. It's quite good, I admit."

"See! Proves my point." Alfred crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

"I don't have _Star Wars_ posters in my bedroom, Alfred."

"Hey! Stop making fun of me! No cookies for you!"

Matthew leaned back against the wall and smiled at their bickering, steadily munching his way through the bag of peppermint patties and wondering when Alfred was going to notice they were gone.

* * *

**I love nerd Alfred with all of my heart, really. Also he has to watch Doctor Who since I love Doctor Who and it is certainly nerdy enough.**


End file.
